Mostly Motor Racing 0854294619, 9780854294619

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How do you describe a man who looks decades younger than he is, who bubbles with enthusiasm for life, who has natural charm in abundance, who is an English gentleman in the mould of David Niven and who has crammed more into his seventy-plus years than most people could into several lifetimes? Extraordinary? Yes, that’s the best word. Alec Francis Rivers Fletcher, — universally as ‘Rivers’, had an ambition at the age of ten to fill his life with cars and motor racing — and that’s just how it’s been . a boyhood dream come true.

-For most of us Malcolm Campbell, Woolf Barnato, Henry Birkin, Raymond Mays and Whitney Straight are names from the past: names without character and life outside their legendary exploits. Not for Rivers; he knew them all and talks of

them today with warmth and as if their adventures and achievements occurred -yesterday. Brooklands is an industrial estate in Surrey surrounded by a ribbon of broken concrete. Not for Rivers. To him it’s a premier racing circuit alive with the burble of people: the air, smelling of burnt rubber and Castrol R, is torn by the whine of straight-cut gears, the scream of superchargers and the bellow of megaphone exhausts. Bentleys of the golden era, classic MGs, B.R.M.s and E.R.A.s, are museum pieces, monuments to the past and our automotive heritage: cars to be cosseted and occasionally used with great care and due reverence. Not for Rivers. To him they are alive, vibrant: cars to-be used everyday or to be raced hard and long, to be repaired with baler twine if necessary and even to be modified, bought, sold and crashed — Jet

like ordinary cars.

(Continued on back flap).

85429 461 9/21

Woolwich

Centre 020 8921 5750

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CONTENTS CHAPTER 1

10

Prep school days. Malcolm Campbell. The Doctor’s cars. Brooklands. Dudley Pank’s Alvis.

CHAPTER 2 First girlfriend.

26 The Renault 45. The Dream.

Dunfee family. With Malcolm Campbell in a Bentley.

CHAPTER 3 A different Brooklands experience. Riding mechanic to Malcolm in the J.C.C. Grand Prix.

38

CHAPTER 4

52

Campbell at home. Apprenticeship to Bentley Motors. 1928 Tourist Trophy.

CHAPTER 5 Life at Bentleys. 1929 Tourist Trophy. 38-250

64

Mercedes, Caracciola then Lord Howe’s.

CHAPTER 6

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1930 Double Twelve, Brooklands. Raymond Mays at Shelsley Walsh. A ride with F.C. Clement.

CHAPTER 7 Woolf Barnato. Driving at Brooklands. The Relay Race. The end of Bentleys.

100

CHAPTER & MGs. Aston Martin. Alvis Speed 20. Charles Follett. Earl Howe. Engaged. Talbot 8-18.

118

CHAPTER 9 Lord Howe at Monaco. Shelsley Walsh. Film work. Clive Dunfee’s accident.

140

ay CHAPTER 10 Whitney Straight. Mont Ventoux. Campbell’s Sunbeam. Invicta project. John Hodge. May’s Riley.

164

CHAPTER

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Straight’s Maseratis. ERA. Empire Trophy. Dieppe. Brooklands. County Down Trophy.

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CHAPTER 12 Leslie Ballamy. Donington Trophy. Louis Fontes. ERA action in Germany.

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CHAPTER 13 Empire Trophy. Seaman. Fairfield. ‘Bira’. ERA club. Riley-ERA.

220

CHAPTER 14 Squire. Road cars. ERA sports car. The Vice Squad.

236

CHAPTER

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15

Development of the ERA club. Marendaz. Penny. Lord Howe’s accident.

CHAPTER 16 1937 International Trophy. The Bolsters. Kay Petre’s accident. Mercedes and Auto-Union.

272

Tragedy in the 1938 International Trophy.

CHAPTER 17 Raymond May’s Special. ERA problems. Preparation for war. War.

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DEDICATION

Holly of Canno

This book is dedicated to Raymond Mays, CBE, whose memorial at Shelsley Walsh I unveiled on July 8, 1984. The portrait of Ray was taken in 1937.

Lord Beaulie of Monta

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INTRODUCTION

DLLME

This book was going to be an autobiography, and mostly concerned with motor racing from the 1920s until today. I started to jot down the principal areas of nearly sixty years of close involvement with the sport — the hundreds of people and cars: Malcolm Campbell, Earl Howe, Woolf Barnato, Sammy Davis, Whitney Straight,

Raymond Mays, Stirling Moss, Mike Hawthorn, Peter Collins, Graham Hill, Jackie Stewart, and so on, with Bugatti, MG, ERA,

Cooper, BRM, Jaguar, and so to Vintage and Historic today. Even leaving out most of my life with Bentley and MG, already covered in my previous books, it was obvious that several volumes would be needed to tell that story. So this book is only about my first ten or twelve years, before the war, just starting in the sport. Since I have never achieved anything myself, what excuse can I find for writing an autobiographical book anyway? Only this — I was there. I have few facts, and practically no figures. The historians have chronicled it all. Some famous drivers’ careers have been well recorded so J have tried to tell more about others of whom less has been written, such as Woolf Barnato, the fifth Earl Howe, and

Whitney Straight. In contrast I have recounted tales from the grass roots of the sport, because that is where I have always been myself. The pre-war years were wonderful, but my life is not all nostalgia. Now, in my seventies, I look forward to more racing in the vintage and historic scene which is so buoyant. My story is not a great one, it is of no importance, but it comes from the heart. For me, our sport is the cars, the noise, the smell and the people — mostly the people. A.F.Rivers Fletcher

The Croft, Kineton, Warwick

April 1985.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

As always, my first thanks are to my wife, Penny, quite rightly my severest critic. She has been through it all, and still shares with me much of the joy. Bill Boddy, not so very much younger than me, has covered the same ground and has remembered many details. The Dowager Countess Howe, Giulio Ramponi, Billy Rockell, Wally Hassan, George Monkhouse, William Cook, Ken Richardson, John Back of the Metropolitan Police Archives, Peter Hull, Cyril Posthumus, and Lorna Berthon have remembered other

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items and checked facts. John and Isobel Willis have proof read the manuscript and made many corrections; they have been a tremendous help. I would like to thank the many friends who have given me photographs, but the source of those pictures cannot be remembered, most of them dating from nearly fifty years ago. They have been extracted from my albums and some of them from frames on the walls of my study. My grateful thanks go to Doreen Reeve who patiently typed the manuscript. I hope my publishers will print my acknowledgement to them since the book was only written because of their great enthusiasm and love of our sport. Finally, I thank my friend James Peacop for his amusing cartoons.

CHAPTER

My life-long love affair with cars and motor racing began in the early 1920s when I was about ten. It started with a dream, a daydream of a whole life with cars and motor racing — a seemingly impossible dream. When told about this my parents, and all my older friends and relations, took no notice at all. “You will get over it,” they said. Nobody took it seriously — why should they? As a rule boys of ten do not know what they are going to do when they grow up: but this one did. I knew even then. I was certain, and never wavered from that path. This is a sort of picture book, and undoubtedly my first memorable pictures were of Bentley, Alvis and other sports cars. At that time I had no photographs of such cars but only illustrated catalogues obtained from the manufacturers in reply to carefully worded requests in schoolboy’s handwriting. So this book starts with a reproduction of my favourite page in the Bentley catalogue of those times. I do not have to think about what I learned in my school days, I know exactly and precisely the extent of my learning — every detail of those catalogues! I was completely car mad. Every other interest and consideration was of secondary importance. Even now in my seventies I have to admit that almost the same situation prevails — cars still rule my life. In my school days we lived near Barnet on the Hertfordshire and Middlesex border about fifteen miles north of London. When I was ten my younger brother Peter and I were ‘train boys’ at Homewood Preparatory School at Finchley. Our walk to and from Totteridge Station on the old Great Northern Railway meant that we crossed the Great North Road, now Al, at Whetstone. It was

there that I saw my first love, a 3-litre Bentley speed model. It was love at first sight, and though I am capricious like most males, and I have fallen in love many times, the right sort of 3-litre Bentley still stops the show for me. During one brief period of his youth my father had come in contact with the sport of motor racing. He spent some holidays in Scotland with friends, Bill Evans and Harold Yarrow, son of the

Yarrow Shipbuilding magnate. Yarrow and Evans were great friends of Wilbur Gunn who founded the Lagonda Company. My father told me that he once rode in a racing Lagonda at the speed of a mile a minute — 60 miles an hour. This was on the open road,

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sitting beside Wilbur Gunn at the wheel. Harold Yarrow also owned a racing car and my father affirmed that this was a Napier. Unfortunately this interest in fast cars was very transitory and his friendship with Wilbur Gunn flourished only because they shared a life-long interest in operatic and sacred music. Cross-questioned on this, my father never seemed to

remember anything much about the cars, except that both Yarrow and Gunn sat up high when driving, and he as a passenger crouched low, almost kneeling down beside the driver. I think that fits if the Napier and the Lagonda were real racing cars. In Davey and May’s history of the Lagonda marque they refer to Gunn’s visits to Scotland to meet the Yarrow family. They say that Gunn was using the special racing 18.2hp model that was driven by Bert Hammond at Brooklands. Moreover they record that the Lagonda was entered by a Mr. Evans. No doubt my father was pretty close to the scene in those days, but what a pity, it didn’t mean anything to him.

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In London, some time later, he met S.F. Edge with Bill

Evans and Harold Yarrow, but it was an unhappy meeting because Yarrow was having a blazing row with Edge. My father’s only recollection of this was that Edge seemed to be a most unreasonable and bad tempered fellow! *

*

*

To set the scene of my early enthusiasm, the time when I first knew that this would be my life, it is necessary to recall the

state of motoring in the early 1920s in England. Though I have no figures to substantiate this, it seemed that, as regards private cars, owner drivers and chauffeurs were in about equal numbers. The vast majority of private cars were open tourers, mostly British, closely followed by the cars of France and Italy, and, of course, Ford (dubbed ‘The Tin Lizzie’) from America.

Variety was certainly the spice of life in those days, the technical specification and the appearance of cars differed from one another to a great degree. The solid-tyred Trojan was retailed at £125, the most popular Morris-Cowley two-seater was £165, the middle class Rovers, Beans and Wolseleys, etc., were between £200 and £400; the

3-litre Bentley was just over £1000. A cheap newcomer from America in saloon form was the Essex Coach at £280 with a very square, boxy appearance. London’s buses were solid-tyred as were most lorries. Motor racing pointed the way ahead. Even before the First World War, Grand Prix cars had been using four wheel brakes, and their engines developed well over a hundred horse power. Some even used five-speed gearboxes with an overdrive. However, it was not the technical development of racing cars that attracted me, but something else, something intangible. I wish I could pinpoint the attraction, but I can’t. I think it was a curious combination of

factors: the appearance of the cars and their sheer speed, a sense of adventure, a gladiatorial conflict, man mastering the machine, and

with it all a noble chivalry. All of these ideas seemed to be

_

CHAPTER embodied in my love of motor racing. One of my problems as a ten-year-old enthusiast was that there seemed to be no books on motor cars. It was some years before I found one — Charles Jarrott’s book Ten Years of Motors and Motor Racing. Quite wonderful, but it only dealt with the earliest days. Stories of the Gordon Bennett races, the Paris-Madrid and the Kaiser Cup fired my imagination but I wanted to read about Brooklands and the Bentleys, Sunbeams and Alvises, cars of my own time — the early twenties. Then at last through friends of the family I obtained some old copies of The Autocar. This sent me post haste to our local newsagent and bookshop. When I asked for a book called The Autocar, they said they knew of no such book, when was it published? I returned later with the information that it was published in March 1913. I knew that was right because that was the date on the last edition of The Autocar in my possession. They promised to find out about it, and later told me that no such book was published. If only I had asked for a magazine or a journal... but, at ten, I only knew it as a book. I really think the man should have been more understanding but I suppose that the magazine was not very

well known. There could not have been much call for such things as only a tiny percentage of the population had private motor cars. However, my old tattered copies taught me quite a lot. I had several of the threepenny editions printed on art paper, and one of the penny editions printed on very thin paper. Many of the cars described were makes I never saw — La Ponette, Mitchell, Nazzaro, Hansa, RCH, HL, Florio, Flanders, Brenna, NAG and the streamlined Turcat-Méry. Most of the other makes could be seen on

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the roads, and I was soon able to identify them by the shapes of their radiators. My father knew all the better known makes, and he helped me when he took us for walks on the Great North Road. The makes owned by the family were easily recognized, but they were mostly very ordinary cars. Perhaps the most interesting were the De Dion Boutons. Though manufactured in France the De Dion was quite a favourite in our district because the English Service Station was on the Great North Road at Finchley. It occupied spacious premises originally built as a roller skating rink, and the De Dion Bouton cars they sold had a fine reputation for good workmanship. The manager (or was it the foreman?) spoke in very broken English with much gesticulation and with lurid French oaths which I was forbidden to imitate. Today the make is usually known as a small veteran, but in the days of my boyhood the 26hp eight-cylinder carried fine limousine coachwork. There was a choice of bevel or worm drive for the back axle, a strange oddity. Apart from my favourite Bentley and Alvis cars I had a special regard for the Riley red-winged sports two and four-seaters, the sports AC, Sunbeam, Talbot, Windsor, Palladium, Lea-Francis,

Fiat, Calthorpe and the Rhode occasional four. This last was my favourite little car. I liked its simple and rather sporty appearance, enhanced for me by disc wheels. The Jelks family living close by, owned a fine selection of

FF LM ZA IO cars — Hotchkiss limousine, Delaunay-Belleville saloon, FIAT tourer and Vinot et Deguingand tourer. Our gardens were separated by a high brick wall. My brother Peter and I would sit on the wall and

tease their chauffeur whilst he was washing the cars, half hoping that he would turn the hose on us so that we could evade the jet of water by tumbling down on our side. The cars, particularly my favourite — the FIAT tourer, were of continuous interest to me. But

of even greater interest at that time were the motorcycles. Their son Frank, about eight years my senior, had two fine solos with JAP engines, a Zenith and a Brough-Superior. I used to watch Frank and his friends sitting astride their bikes, sometimes kick starting them and revving up the engines. How I admired them, hair smarmed down straight off their foreheads without a parting, and wearing their pale grey Oxford bags. The Brough-Superior with its polished bulbous tank was my favourite bike. It was closely followed by the Coventry Eagle Flying 8 owned by another of Frank’s friends, his name forgotten now but I do remember that he had been at my prep school before my time, and was a legendary figure, the captain of the cricket first eleven. In a way exciting motorcycles were almost as interesting as cars because the vast majority of cars were very ‘touring’, and one saw very few sports cars, whereas a large percentage of motorcycles were of sporting type. My interest in motorcycles was very temporary because right from the start my parents had told me that they were forbidden to me. Motorcycles were considered too dangerous, and unpleasant things anyway, despite the fact that a friend of my father’s, Arthur Yates, a well known diamond merchant, was a great enthusiast. He had several interesting cars including a 3-litre Sunbeam, and had a Sunbeam motorcycle combination. The latter was the all-black deluxe version with an oil bath chaincase and heavily valanced mudguards. I once had a ride in the chair which I thought was great fun — never dreaming that fifty years later I would be chairman of a company, run by my son, which manufactures sidecars. In due course, I discovered the weekly motor journals: The Autocar (a magazine instead of a book!), The Motor, The Light Car and Cycle Car and Auto, such good value at twopence, printed in photogravure. Then at Brooklands I obtained a copy of The Brooklands Gazette and immediately ordered it every month from W.H. Smith’s bookstall at Finchley Railway Station. When it changed its name to Motor Sport, in August 1925, I was already a regular reader. As I have said most of our family cars were very ordinary tourers. My father was forever changing them, but he was no sort of enthusiast. On one occasion he bought a car, a Citroen, during term time, used it for a few weeks and then sold it again before the holidays! I never even saw it, and to this day I am still not sure what model it was. My father hadn’t the least idea, only remembering that it had a rear windscreen with a metal tonneau but was most uncomfortable. Amongst the British cars Rover was the most popular, followed by the inevitable Austin and Morris. Our 11.9hp Bean was rather nice, not very fast and had a radiator rather like the flat-radiatored TT Bentley.

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CHAPTER Some of our Continental cars were more interesting. My favourites were a couple of Type 501 FIATS, of around 1924. The first carried FIAT’s own torpedo body, the designation ‘torpedo’ indicating that the touring body had a lot of ‘tumble home’ and small doors. It had a right-hand gearchange with a gate, and first was so low that I thought the FIAT would go up the side of the house. This car had balloon tyres which were all the rage at that time. The second FIAT also had a four-seater touring body, but it was by Park Ward, really beautiful coachwork with soft leather upholstery which my parents preferred to the rather hard buttoned leather of the previous FIAT. This second FIAT had normal high pressure tyres, because the previous one with balloon tyres had had very heavy steering. There were two special reasons why I preferred the second FIAT. Firstly it had an exhaust cut-out, which was operated by a little pedal on the floorboards. This enabled the car to sound like a racing car, and of course I used it to excess so that it soon blew its gasket making the car very noisy and smelly all the time and R.F. very unpopular! In fact, the exhaust cut-out was illegal in this country, and one wondered why it was ever fitted. The second reason I so liked that car also gives a clue as to why there was an exhaust cut-out. On the dashboard there was a plaque with the magic words ‘Supplied by Malcolm Campbell’. For me that made it almost a racing car. At that time Malcolm Campbell was already a leading racing driver, and he was an agent for several makes. Sometimes our

family cars came from him. This was not because he was a famous racing driver, but rather despite it: my father did not really like the motor racing set. He came across quite a lot of them in the City of London, where he was a stockbroker. One of his friends in the City was Colonel Vickers Dunfee who founded the City of London Special Constabulary, and my father was one of the first members. '

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In this way I met the Colonel’s sons, I can’t remember the name of the eldest but the two middle ones, Jack and Clive, quite a lot older

than me were already racing drivers, and the youngest son, Geoffrey was exactly my age. Jack and Clive competed at Brooklands and Geoffrey and I were allowed to tag along. My father was still rather fearful of my adulation of anyone in the world of motor racing, despite his friendship with the Colonel. Malcolm Campbell’s private secretary, Joan Taylor, was a great friend of my family. She was particularly good to me. Through her I learned a great deal about Malcolm. Malcolm, in turn, learned all about my tremendous interest in racing, and he sent me signed photographs. I first met him in his London office and then at Brooklands. He was obviously surprised and pleased that anyone so young had so much detailed knowledge. His son Donald was quite a lot younger than me and not old enough to be interested. In any case he was probably too close to the family to have the same adulation. From the very start of our relationship, Campbell gave me great encouragement. He sent me Paddock passes for Brooklands, photos of his cars, and answered all my questions. Wearing my treasured Paddock pass at Brooklands, my first

ay 1 call was always at Campbell’s shed. Leo Villa, his chief mechanic,

was kindness itself. It was he who first started to give me inside information — that Kaye Don’s Sunbeam was having supercharger trouble or perhaps that Campbell’s Bugatti had increased its lap speed since the last meeting. So at an absurdly young age I began to feel that motor racing really was my world

Campbell with a later Bluebird.

Our close family friends in the neighbourhood were the clergy and the doctors. From my point of view the clergy were a dead loss, no cars at all, not even amongst the ever-changing young curates. However, the doctors were quite different. Doctor im Thurn, who prised me into this world, was a great character with several interesting cars. At different times he had a Siddeley Deasy, a De Dion Bouton and a Buick (which featured a device that pumped up the tyres via the engine). The doctor’s chauffeur was a stuffy old codger who wouldn’t chat with me, or let me play with the controls of the cars. But the doctor also owned a little

The polished aluminium 12/40 AC Sports; this model was owned by Dr im Thurn.

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runabout, and when he came to tea he usually came alone in that. This was originally a lovely little coupé Charron-Laycock with a polished aluminium bonnet, then an open two-seater Calthorpe, but best of all a wonderful AC: the pointed-tail sports model with a V-windscreen and polished aluminium body. He took me round the lanes in that car, and it was the first real sports car in which I ever rode. Though I never drove the doctor’s AC, I was allowed to play with the controls — there was a lovely little right-hand gearchange with quite a short lever but a long movement because the gearbox itself was on the back axle. The engine had a smooth hum with very little vibration and it seemed a very high quality car, beautifully finished. Even before I saw Dr. im Thurn’s AC I liked the make. At Brooklands I loved J.A. Joyce’s narrow single-seater, also in polished aluminium. This was one of the most beautiful

looking racing cars I had ever seen. In its stall in the Paddock the car’s crab track was most noticeable. It was low and small particularly in comparison with Cushman’s big Crossley in the adjacent stall. Raymond Mays also had a very striking AC, narrow enough to be a single-seater but it was in fact a two-seater with very staggered seats. At Brooklands it was always in trouble, surrounded by mechanics and making explosive noises.

4

4 A eg! Raymond Mays in his very narrow AC.

My second ride in a sports car was in another car looking very like the doctor’s AC, but much rougher — it was owned by one ‘Carby’ Thompson who ran the local garage near The Green Man pub. (The Green Man Garage was much later owned and run by Geoffrey Render, whose younger brother David is today a leading sprint driver). Carby was a great character; before the war he had worked for Archie Frazer-Nash on GNs and claimed that he personally built several GNs and rode as mechanic with Archie in various races. In the war he lost a leg, but seemed to cope very well with a wooden replacement. His ABC was very noisy and quite brutal. It was difficult to start so we spent ages pushing the car around while Carby sat and fiddled with the controls. When it did start it sounded like a machine gun. He often took me out but he never let me have a go myself.

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‘Carby’ Thompson’s ABC.

The ABC, though called a 12/40 was only of 10.37hp and 1326cc when most Twelves were 11.9hp and 1500cc. Carby had tuned his and modified it in the way that Gordon England had improved his ABC for Brooklands. It had a most unusual gear-changing mechanism, the lever being lifted up to change up and pushed down to change down. All the four ratios were quite high and this was made more noticeable because the car had a twin cylinder engine. Another Doctor, Langford-Jones, had a very unusual sports two-seater model T Ford. In this car I first experienced an epicyclic gearbox, so easy to drive with its peculiar foot gearchange and hand throttle. Like other boys I collected cigarette cards, and of course my favourite collection was Lambert and Butler’s series of motor cars. Number 20 was the Hispano-Suiza, the only racing car in the series. There was but little information on the back of the card, only that

the racing car achieved 135hp but the picture depicted a genuine racer with its competition number on the front of the radiator and on the side of the scuttle. I don’t think I ever saw an Hispano-Suiza on the road, and even at Brooklands they were rarely seen. The other Continental that appealed to me was the Isotta Fraschini but only because I had seen fine pictures in the magazines. Soon I had real contact with the make in the flesh, or is it in the metal? Visiting my Grandfather’s house at Totteridge one day, I saw in the drive an enormous open sports Isotta Fraschini. My Uncle Percy, who had an Italian wife — my Aunt Leah — was on a visit from their home on the shores of Lake Como. Uncle Percy had no such car, but they were being accompanied by friends of Leah from the Italian Embassy in London — Count somebody or other — but then aren’t all Italian gentlemen Counts? When my mother was able to forcibly drag me away from the car we went in and I immediately asked lots of questions about the Isotta. Unfortunately I could not understand the answers because the Count’s English was so broken, so the chauffeur, who was having tea with cook, was fished out from behind the green baize door and asked to show

CHAPTER

me the car. I remember that he had a wonderful cockney accent and was happy to answer my boyish questions. I climbed into the front cockpit, and put my school cap back to front in the proper racing fashion. There was a large circular drive round a lawn with rose beds. The chauffeur drove me round several laps very slowly in bottom gear: I urged him to open up, but he refused saying that it would scatter the gravel. That one occasion and that short drive was sufficient to endear me to the marque ever since. For me, for many years, it had predominance over the Hispano-Suiza marque until more knowledgeable friends convinced me that the Hispano was in fact a better car. Another page from another brochure — this time Alvis. My love was the 12-50 Super Sports. I must have lost the 1923 Catalogue but my 1926 edition is almost the same. The earlier model had a V-windscreen, which I preferred, it was more attractive and rakish but probably less practical. The body of the Alvis 12-50 —a |!/2-litre car — was of polished aluminium and the exhaust pipe was outside and on the off-side. In later years the body style was known as ‘duck’s back’ and following models with a slightly different tail were called ‘beetle backs’.

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A page from the 1926 Alvis catalogue.

In those days cars of under 1!/2-litre cubic capacity were described as ‘light cars’ or ‘voiturettes’. One of the leading motor clubs was The Junior Car Club, and all of their events were

confined to cars of under 1!/2-litre capacity. In the same way, one of the leading journals, The Light Car and Cycle Car, was created to cater for cars of under 1!/2-litre capacity. Though I read all the motor journals, my favourite at that

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time was The Autocar and I was a disciple of their sports editor, ‘Casque’. At that time I was unaware that the nom de plume hid the identity of S.C.H. Davis, then an up-and-coming racing driver. Through The Autocar I followed the motor racing scene. The leading Alvis driver was Major C.M. Harvey. When I read that he would be driving in the 1923 JCC 200 Mile Race at Brooklands I hoped that he would win. To my regret, I was not able to see that race because I was too young to go on my own to Brooklands and on that occasion there was no grown-up available to take me. However, when I read of Harvey’s victory in the Alvis I was

overjoyed. This cemented my love for the marque which is just as strong today.

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Leon Cushman, Major C.M.Harvey and Cyril Paul.

Just as cars were the most important things in my life, Brooklands was the place. In the 1920s it was the only motor racing track in Great Britain and the centre of all motor racing sport. It was not only a racing track, it was also a principall aerodrome. The Vickers sheds bordering the track were the home of the famous Vickers bombers of World War I. Brooklands had, and

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in fact what remains of it still has, a wonderful and unique atmosphere. The vast area of concrete used to reflect the heat of the sun in the summer, there was a strong scent of the pine trees on the Members

Banking and there was another scent, quite different, but

in its own way just as attractive during a race meeting. This was the scent of fumes of Castrol R wafting up the hill from the Paddock. Though Bentleys were my favourite make and the shape of their open speed model was the most attractive sort of road car, it seemed to me that pure racing cars should be single or two-seater models with a tail. There was only one Bentley of that shape and that was Woolf Barnato’s polished aluminium 3-litre racer. This car was beautifully turned out, and I had a special admiration for the driver who was handsome, bronzed and tough-looking.

A page from the 1928 Bentley 3-litre catalogue.

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Amongst the Continental races, one captured my admiration above all others — the Le Mans 24-Hour Race in France. There was much about that race in The Autocar and having already seen both Duff and Clement at Brooklands I hoped that they would win the 1924 Le Mans race in a 3-litre Bentley. Their great win, so well described by Casque in The Autocar, thrilled me to the core. A splendid photograph of Duff, Clement and W.O. Bentley with the victorious 3-litre decorated my bedroom throughout my school days and still hangs in my study today, now recalling sixty years of admiration. Today it is difficult to imagine just how different motoring conditions were in those days. When I was only twelve, during the summer holidays I sometimes got up early in the morning and took my father’s Rover or Fiat for a blind round the lanes before breakfast, indulging in handbrake turns and other racing manoeuvres — or what I thought were racing manoeuvres — wearing out the tyres and not really doing much good to the car itself either. I remember returning home and being met by the local police sergeant who stopped me as I entered the drive. He said: ““Now my boy, you know you must not do this, you are far too young. Don’t let me catch you driving your father’s car again”: only the mildest rebuke and warning. In fact I did it again, many times and several times he saw me. His attitude was just the same, “Naughty, naughty. You really should not do it!’ No hint of a summons ... those were the days.

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The well-known picture of F.C.Clement, W.O.Bentley and Captain J.F.Duff with the winning 3-litre Bentley at Le Mans, 1924.

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Our home was about where the suburbs ended and the country began. It was just as well that there was but little traffic. I had no real knowledge and only a modicum of skill. Sometimes uncles and older cousins could be persuaded to let me drive their cars out of their garages, and perhaps just go up the road and back. Their cars were mostly very ordinary tourers, certainly not sports cars. Of course I had to be very careful not to seem to be at all reckless lest I should forfeit further chances. Only when out of sight could I use maximum acceleration or do some skidding — my greatest delight.

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It was only in my father’s cars on those early morning drives that I dared to do my own thing. Looking back on it all I realize that it was not racing driving at all, and in fact rather dangerous. I often completely lost control of the car and entered blind corners at high speed sideways or backwards in clouds of dust. Trees, walls and telegraph poles seemed to jump out of the way at the last minute. Early postmen and paper boys walked safely on one side of the road whilst I slid out of control demolishing the hedge on the other side. I must have had a charmed life.

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There were not so very many lady drivers in those days, but my mother took the wheel with great, though misplaced, confidence. She was a kind, loving and very generous person, sweet-tempered and possessing all the treasured good virtues, but nevertheless a very poor driver. She had absolutely no mechanical sense, but that was not unusual in women

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at that time and was not

by any means the worst feature of her driving. The worst and by far the most dangerous part was her complete lack of judgement of speed, not only her own speed but the speed of other road users. I remember on one occasion sitting beside her when she was at the wheel as we came up behind a very slow moving motor lorry. We had a lovely stretch of several miles of dead straight road ahead — this was in the Lincolnshire fen country. Conditions for passing were ideal, nothing in sight. Did she overtake? No fear, we stayed behind that crawling lorry for something like a couple of miles until eventually we came upon a blind corner. When half round that bend my mother accelerated and drew level with the lorry and coming towards us was another lorry. Both lorries braked violently and somehow or other we just squeezed between them. We all stopped and my mother had the goodness to congratulate both lorry drivers for their quick action. When they departed she turned to me and said “I didn’t want to hurt their feelings, but of course it was my road — as they were both lorries’’. Despite constant assurances to the contrary by the rest of my family, my mother was always utterly convinced that all commercial vehicles had to give way to private cars. After a number of incidents with local delivery vans and other commercial vehicles, she gave up the unequal struggle and finished driving, I think only just in time. She said she did not know what the world was coming to, but, as always, consoled herself with the conviction

TTT I

ST iit OE gp 5 that it was a swing of the pendulum: in a few years things would return to normal. If my dear mother had lived a little longer, and driven on today’s motorways amongst the juggernauts, she would not have lived long exercising her supposed right of way! Old friends of my family living not far away from my home were the Panks of Oakleigh Park. They had four sons; the youngest, Christopher, was my age and we saw quite a lot of one another. The oldest brother, Dudley, was about seven years older than me, and all the Pank boys were well known for daring escapades, the leading culprit being Dudley. He had his first car, an old Austin, during his last year at Rugby. He wrote it off one Guy Fawkes night when another boy bet him a pound that he could not drive it through their big bonfire: Dudley won the one pound bet, but lost the car. He told me he very nearly made it, and anyway the bang when the petrol tank exploded, and the excitement and drama with the fire brigade, made it all very worthwhile. Most of the Big Ideas were Dudley’s. As Chris was the youngest and smallest it was he who was often compelled to play the leading part: as was the case in the ‘Discovery Of The Well’ adventure. Their mother was out for the day when the gardener unearthed the top of a well in the kitchen garden and unwisely told young Mr. Dudley of his discovery. The four brothers then drove away the hapless gardener with well directed missiles, and Dudley took charge of operations. The heavy wooden top was removed, disclosing a beautiful brick well, dark and apparently empty. Pebbles thrown down disappeared from sight and there was no sound of a splash, only a faint thud when they reached the bottom. There was only one course of action. Everyone must go down, but first Dudley had the bright idea of testing the air by lowering Chris in a bucket: if he was right, we could all go down... A large bucket was collected from the stables, a long clothes lines was obtained from the laundry, and little Chris was lowered out of sight until the bucket reached the bottom. After leaving him a few moments to make certain that he was not holding his breath (Dudley was very thorough in his experiments) Chris was hauled to the top again with joyous shouts of ‘‘He’s alive, he’s alive’. Everyone else then took turns to explore the well.

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Chris was usually amenable to being the guinea pig, but I do remember that on one particular occasion he just would not play. This was in connection with Dudley’s ‘Parachute Theory’. Their house, Culverlands, was a rambling old property incorporating a tall tower of four storeys. Dudley had a theory that if one jumped from the top of the tower, holding Mrs Pank’s big golfing umbrella, one would sail gracefully down on to the croquet lawn. It was a lovely summer day when the theory was put to the test. Mrs Pank was safely out for the afternoon, so all climbed the tower with Dudley, who expounded his theory confidently and fairly convincingly, suggesting however that Chris should have the honour of making the first jump since he was the lightest of the party. Chris stood quivering on the parapet with the big golfing umbrella, but then he said ‘‘No!”’ Somehow he just couldn’t believe that it would work. One by one, each of us was cajoled, but no one was persuaded to make that big jump. In the end in sheer frustration Dudley decided that even though he was the heaviest he would do a simple initial demonstration jump, from halfway up the tower, so that we could all see how simple it was. Two of us went down to the lawn to guide and perhaps partly catch him about twenty feet away from the house. That jump from the cook’s bedroom window was not as practical as the leap from the parapet of the top of the tower would have been, but still he was convinced that he would glide out gracefully onto the lawn. It was a brave attempt, but not much of a glide, and Dudley certainly did not reach the lawn: he crashed straight down into the rhododendrons! The umbrella did break the fall a little and, of course, the fall broke the umbrella and did very little good to the rhododendrons ...

ES BAA

Dudley only broke his ankle, not his leg as we thought at first, so all in all it wasn’t too bad. Dudley still thought that Chris, with his lighter weight, would have sailed across to the lawn from the top of the tower, but we never did try again. Perhaps it is rather unfair to recount that incident because most of Dudley’s experiments succeeded, and there were very few broken bones; most of the injuries were very slight and seldom was anyone in hospital. There was that race down the stairs on pogo sticks, when both Chris and Dudley suffered broken legs, but that was exceptional and they were unlucky! The more spectacular ‘Throwing Chris-in-the-Sack Over the Wall’ experiment was remarkably successful: only a few minor bruises and lacerations, and therefore undoubtedly proved Dudley right in his ‘packing with hay’ theory. Escapades with the Panks were merely diversions from my main interest in motoring, and at school my nickname became ‘Bentley’. Fortunately, Dudley soon caught my enthusiasm for fast cars and he bought an Alvis duck’s back sports model. This was unfortunately very second-hand, and an early 10/30 sidevalve model, not nearly as fast as the well known 12/50. However, it was a real sports car and Dudley allowed me to drive it a great deal, long before I reached the age of consent — 17 for a driving licence. I found that it was not any more difficult to drive that Alvis than driving our family FIATS. Both had right-hand gate gearlevers and similar other controls. Each had the same requirements to

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Dudley with the Alvis in the drive of ‘Culverlands’, their house at Oakleigh Park, on the Middlesex| Hertfordshire border, north of London. I enjoy my first drive in a real sports car — Dudley Pank’s Alvis in around 1924.

double-declutch and judge the amount of throttle for each gearchange. Of course, the Alvis was a bit more sensitive, the steering was heavier and more direct, and there was obviously more performance. I enjoyed doing some standing starts, with a good deal of throttle producing a satisfying amount of wheelspin. Skids could be corrected with a flick of the steering wheel. Handbrake turns were achieved with the splendid outside lever, and everything was accompanied by a healthy roar of exhaust noise. Dudley was a wonderful friend, giving me all that experience so young. The dream was beginning to come true — I was driving a sports Alvis, and only just into my teens.

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Up until the 1920s I had only one love, cars, which occupied all my dreams and ambitions, but now, suddenly, I found another

wonderful thing to occupy my mind — girls. First of all I fell in love with Dorothy, a lovely willowy blonde of about my age, the elder daughter of great friends of my parents. Considering it was first love it blossomed fairly well.The early 1920s was not a permissive age, and I thought that I was doing pretty well when we reached the holding hands stage. After months of ardent wooing (in my mind of course, only in my mind) I decided to KISS her. The time was ripe, and I determined my course of action. It was a beautiful day by the sea, and walking together on the sand dunes I plucked up all my courage and said “‘Please may I kiss you’’? What could she say? Of course I realize now she could not have said ‘Yes, by all means’, which I had hoped for. She let me down fairly lightly by saying “Don’t be silly’, but I regarded this as a complete refusal, so I apologized dejectedly and we walked back home in silence. Well!

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That’s how it was in the early 1920s and in fact I never did kiss her, and the affair drifted on in a rather desultory way until my fickle heart found another amour. For the next few years nearly all my loves were the pretty sisters of school fellows, and our contacts were when I went to stay at the homes of these friends for odd weekends during the term. Finally I learned that you did not ask permission to kiss girls, you just did it. But all these affairs were very tame in comparison with what later generations have been able to achieve at that age, and much earlier! However, all of this was really very secondary to cars, and visits to Brooklands were still the highlights of my life. During the holidays an older cousin was sometimes prevailed upon to take me to the track by train from Waterloo, since my father hated the noise and had few friends among the competitors at the Weybridge circuit. I remember the great excitement of getting out at Weybridge and walking up the little footpath to the Members Hill. Malcolm Campbell’s Paddock passes were a godsend. On one occasion I was allowed to sit in Leon Cushman’s 20/70 Crossley, a fine car that put up some stirring performances on the outer circuit. The Crossley was painted pale blue and always well

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S.C.H.Davis, John Cobb and the Hon. Brian Lewis (who later became Lord Essendon).

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presented. Leon also raced a Brescia Bugatti but my favourite was the Crossley because I had been allowed to try the driving position with its great big rigid steering wheel and massive gear and handbrake levers. I met Alistair Miller and John Cobb so I had a special interest in their performances. Cobb was usually driving a Fiat but Miller seemed to drive every sort of car, and each time I met him he was at the wheel of a different machine. Although I never met him, and only followed his career via the motor papers, I remember the sadness of Antonio Ascari’s death when he crashed at Montlhery. Amongst the other Continental drivers my hero was Dario Resta. Again I never met him but I felt that everything about him was glamorous, even his name. I was shocked and saddened by his tragic death at Brooklands when I read of it in the papers. All the “Bentley Boys’ became my idols but of course Le Mans was a long way away, and the only racing that I could see in this country was at Brooklands which was not such a happy hunting ground for Bentleys. The big names as far as the daily press was concerned were Segrave and Campbell. Although I met Segrave once or twice, I never really knew him, but his great rival was my number one hero, Malcolm Campbell. I never tired of hearing the outrageous stories told by my family about his escapades off and on the track. When Joan Taylor talked of the ‘Skipper’ as he was always known, I hung on every word. Oddly enough I did not particularly like Campbell’s son Donald. I thought him very namby pamby. How wrong I was, as much later we became very good friends, and I eventually regarded him as one of the bravest men I have ever known. Amongst the photographs that Malcolm Campbell sent me, I very much liked the look of one of the land speed record cars of one of his rivals — the car was the Djelmo and the driver was Foresti who was very lucky to escape with his life when he

One of Campbell’s rivals, Foresti, had this nasty accident in the straight-eight ‘Djelmo’ at Pendine and was lucky to escape with his life.

overturned it whilst attempting the British kilometre record at Pendine. Despite great treats like visits to Brooklands, and clandestine

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drives in Dudley’s Alvis and the family cars, of course my motoring had to be basically as a passenger. There was just one boy at school who shared my interest in motor racing — Terry Grace, whose father had the distinction of captaining one of the most famous trans-Atlantic liners. Terry and I pooled our pocket money to buy the motor journals and took every opportunity of cadging rides in the cars owned by the parents of day boys. Again I was disappointed to find that these were not sports cars: we obviously mixed in a very dull and dreary set. I often saw in Alford town a very nice 12-50 Alvis owned by one Captain Jay who was the manager of the local brewery. I think he was also somethihg to do with the school and I know that he was a personal friend of my headmaster. On one occasion I was able to engage him in conversation about the car but though I dropped several hints, I never had a ride in it. However, one of the weekly-boarders (only one degree better than those deadly scum — train-boys) had an uncle who owned a fabulous car, a 45hp Torpedo Renault. As a matter of fact I did not like the boy at all, and was pretty beastly to him until one Monday morning when I saw him climbing out of that great sporting Renault. The young are jolly rotten aren’t they? Now, in my seventies I would never be beastly to anyone, that is until I was quite certain that they had the wrong sort of car! We had some fine runs in that Renault. Algenon’s uncle was a good driver, and young Algy soon became one of my bosom friends. The mammoth Renault was quite unlike any other sports car, it was more like a battleship. Big in every direction, it was even tall. It had wooden artillery wheels which would have looked ridiculous on any other sports car, but somehow suited that Renault. The controls were more suited to the Queen Mary. It had a 3-speed gearbox but had tremendous torque. I don’t think it cornered at all well, but when it was aimed correctly at a corner the great monster thundered round like the Flying Scotsman. It did not have the raucus type of exhaust note that I liked, but was silent rather like a Rolls-Royce. RY LAVA

wey MELA EA On several occasions we achieved more than 80 miles per hour and Algenon’s uncle affirmed that he had done more than 90. He also told me that an identical Renault had broken the world record at Montlheéry track at over 100mph. I did not say anything, but I felt that it could not be right. I well knew that Malcolm Campbell held the world record speed of over 150mph in his Sunbeam. So the next time I saw Campbell I asked him. He explained that there were many world records of different distances and with different sizes of car. He told me that Renault certainly held some world records, but not the ultimate land speed record. During the holidays, staying with friends and relations in the West Country and in the Cotswolds, I was able to see some of the

competitors in the principal reliability trials. My favourite Bentleys were seldom seen in those events, but the 12-50 Alvis and the sidevalve Redwing Rileys were well to the fore. I saw V. Wallsgrove

in a four-seater Redwing put up some fine performances on the hills. I met him with Brian Lewis at Brooklands where he was going to race another sidevalve Riley which was specially designed for sand racing. I think that Victor Gillow raced the same car at Southport and I had taken a great liking to it. Wallsgrove had no proper silencer on that Riley for Brooklands and it seemed that he would not be able to start in his race. Brian took him to friends at Thompson and Taylors who should have been able to help but they had nothing immediately available for that diameter of exhaust pipe. However, some friends fixed up a can round the tailpipe that made it look like a proper silencer. The chief scrutineer, Hugh McConnell, passed it but Brian told me afterwards that McConnell

knew very well that it was only a fake. I liked being ‘in the know’ on little things like that, and I enjoyed meeting Wallsgrove at many events; I think he was with the Riley Company. When I was about fourteen my daydreams took on a new form. I already had scrapbooks with press cuttings and pictures of my favourite cars. Now I started to write in exercise books lists of imaginary fleets of cars that I would like to own. This led to drawing plans of garages and listing the events in which I would like to run. Soon I was planning an ideal life, drawing the cars, garages, houses and gardens. Dreaming up an imaginary existence for myself. A career tied to fast cars and racing, at Bentley’s — an obvious choice. Needless to say, this career with Bentley was to be at director’s level and leading the team at Le Mans. A country house near Brooklands, a town flat in Belgravia close to theatre land, so that I could play the lead in musical comedies, and a villa on the Mediterranean where I could keep my yacht and several speed boats. You may laugh! But to me this daydream was no joke, and it became an integral part of my life. Over the years I continued to plan this lifestyle in great detail, making hundreds of drawings of The 45hp Renault — battleship-like but surprisingly

fast.

houses and flats. During the school holidays I even visited likely sites near Brooklands, and listed directorships of suitable car and boat companies.

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All this was a goal, a future existence that I planned for

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myself. How to do this I never considered, I only planned the final set-up. I still have some of those early exercise books, with drawings of the cars, the boats, the houses and the garages — enormous garages with line upon line of cars. Even the furnishings and decor of all the rooms of the houses are detailed and my wife’s cars too! No details or dimensions of my wife, but I remember that she was always the current and ever changing “best girl’. Of course, the use of the superlative ‘best girl’ also implied the existence of other, lesser, amours. And that is how it was in that period, the first and second decades after the First World War, with

young girls outnumbering young men at least three to one, young men had it very much their own way ...

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This very detailed goal grew up, as I grew up, but the exercise has always remained essentially unfulfilled. Long before I left school the dream matured a little. At least I realized that I was unlikely to be a stage star, a Le Mans winner, an ace speed boat pilot and a successful company director! This dream life was a rather private affair, only little bits of it being shared with my closest friends. I found, and rightly, that other boys could not understand how real and important my dream was. “‘But you’ve drawn those plans of garages dozens of times, they’re all the same, what are they’? In the end I had to resort to saying “Oh, nothing. Just some drawings”’. It is obvious that to have achieved the lifestyle I coveted I would have had to become a near millionaire, but I never did consider money as such, or how to acquire it. I just imagined that somehow or other it would be all right, which of course is no way to become a millionaire. I never did achieve those goals. No sort of millionaire, no great success story, but nevertheless a lucky working man, working and living close to the action all the time. Perhaps if I had worked and studied at school, and then worked and studied in later life at those subjects that did not interest me, I would have got nearer to that ideal existence — perhaps. But I was not, and am not, that sort of chap. I was, and am still, a dreamer of dreams. Yet I am convinced that my dream life, the continual existence of an ideal plan, has been the major fact in shaping my real life — relatively humble though it is. Most of my visits to Brooklands were for BARC (Brooklands Automobile Racing Club) meetings which were the most numerous and were run round the outer circuit anti-clockwise. I divided my time between the Paddock where I could examine the cars in detail, and the Members Bridge where I could see them at high speed. On the Bridge my special perch was sitting on the top of one of the pillars at the top of the Banking. Being quite small I needed someone to give me a bunk up, but the members were always very helpful. The same people seemed to use the same vantage places at each meeting, our little world of British motor racing was a very small world in those days. Soon I became recognized and someone would say ‘“‘Here comes the youngster who needs the bunk up’, and I would be lifted up to my special perch. It was a wonderful place, I could see cars coming round the top of the banking towards me very close indeed. The fastest cars, like the Leyland-Thomas, the Isotta-Maybach and the Bentleys of Barnato

ey ML 7 and Benjafield passed almost underneath me. I saw some thrilling duels and a few dangerous moments. I recall when Goutte, in a Salmson had an alarming skid,

overcorrected, and then took a long time to get straight again. I was very keen on the French 1100cc cars, Salmsons and Amilcars. Geoffrey Dunfee and I sat in Jack’s Salmson in the Paddock, and were allowed to help push-start, but the man in a white coat at the Paddock gate usually prevented us from going out onto the track with the car. The cars used to line up on the old Finishing Straight by the Paddock Grand Stand. I often tried to be so close to the cars when they were pushed out of the Paddock towards the start, that I could be allowed in with them unnoticed.

In the first bay on the Railway Straight at Brooklands is Jack Dunfee, with Roland Dangerfield as mechanic in the 2-litre Sunbeam. Leslie Callingham, wearing a trilby, is behind the car. His 3-litre Bentley, which was an ex-works 6-hour race car but was later fitted with a fabric coupé body, is seen in the background.

On one occasion Dr. Benjafield allowed me to sit in his Bentley as it was pushed out, and after that the man at the gate usually let me out on to the track with Benjafield: I guess he

thought I was part of the family! Dr. Benjafield raced a Salmson too, as also did a chap called Hazlehurst who gave me a ride up and down the Aerodrome Road before he went out to win a handicap race. I was so thrilled with my ride that I immediately placed a shilling on him, and this was my first successful Brooklands bet. I have never been a good betting man, always

placing my bets on the cars I wanted to win rather than those that I expected to win. I always liked Vernon Balls’ Amilcars; he talked to me and answered my questions patiently. He even showed me round his workshop at Fulham. This was on a Saturday morning and I was surprised to see him wearing riding breeches. Some years later, when I knew him quite well, I learned that he was a very good horseman, every bit as knowledgeable on horses as on cars. Generally, I liked the cars with short tails, or bolster tanks, rather than the fully streamlined long-tailed cars. I preferred Campbell’s Itala to his streamlined Chrysler, and I never liked the

look of the Leyland-Thomas or cars like Lionel Rapson’s

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Lanchester or Lanfranchi’s great yellow Isotta-Maybach. Major Coe was certainly one of my idols, and Malcolm Campbell introduced me to him at his house when Campbell was buying an Alsatian dog from him. Coe was a very attractive

personality, his fair hair was brushed straight back off his forehead without a parting which was the fashion at that time. I immediately copied this but my parents were horrified and refused to allow me to wear my hair in such an outlandish style. I try to remember this today when I see young men with hairstyles that seem outlandish to me in the 1980s. Coe had several Vauxhalls, including a very fast racing model that he crashed at Brooklands very spectacularly without any injuries to him or his mechanic. He also had one of the most beautiful sports cars I had ever seen. I had seen a description of this model in The Autocar. It was called the Wensum, named after

Dr. Benjafield at the wheel of

the river which runs through Norwich, a town much loved by the Rivers Fletcher family. I was still at school when Bentley achieved their second Le Mans victory. I had hoped that they would win with their new 41/2-litre because I had been told that it would be driven by Clement and Woolf Barnato. In fact Barnato did not drive in that event, and his place was taken by Leslie Callingham. However, the

the 3-litre Bentley in which he 41/2 was concerned in the classic pile-up that involved the whole and Sammy Davis, standing *Y Bentley team, and victory went to the damaged 3-litre driven by Mans 24 hour Race. Sammy Davis and Dr. Benjafield.

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Soon after that race in 1927, when I was about fourteen, I

had a real Bentley experience. My father told me that a friend of his on the stock exchange had ordered a new Bentley, and knowing of my enthusiasm he arranged for me to see it under construction. I saw it at the coachbuilders, Freestone and Webb at Stonebridge

ay ML Ea Park, Willesden. This was very thrilling and exciting for me, and of course I wrote to the owner thanking him for his kindness. He replied to me asking if I had any suggestions for improvements. This pleased me very much and I was determined to display my knowledge. I wrote, making a recommendation for the fitting of an anti-glare screen. I explained that if the sun was low and one was driving towards it, there would be serious dazzle because there was

no peak over the windscreen in that Freestone and Webb design. The owner telephoned me and said he was very impressed, and arranged for me to visit the coachbuilders again with him. I arrived bringing with me drawings I had made of the installation. Everyone took it very seriously despite my cheek, and they really did fit the anti-glare screen, and in due course I had a letter from the owner

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The 6!|2-litre Bentley with Freestone and Webb saloon body for which I recommended an anti-glare screen — already helping to build a Bentley at the age of fourteen!

thanking me for my help and I had a nice ride in the car when it was completed. So, at fifteen, I was already helping to build a Bentley — well, almost! During the school holidays the standard treats were visits to Brooklands and to London town. My brother, Peter, and I both

loved the theatre and my favourite shows were always musical comedies, often at the Gaiety Theatre. Katja the Dancer with Ivy Tresmand, Lido Lady with Jack Hulbert, Cicely Courtneidge and Phyllis Dare, Stand up and Sing with Jack Buchanan and Elsie Randolph, Mr. Cinders with Bobby Howes and Binnie Hale or the Co-optimists with Davy Burnaby, Stanley Holloway, Melvin Gideon and Betty Chester. Of all the female stars in those shows my favourite was June. Her real name was June Howard-Tripp but her full name was never used, only June. To cement my adulation she happened to be Woolf Barnato’s girlfriend. The other standard part of a treat in London was walking round the car showrooms in Great Portland Street, and to the Bentley showrooms in Hanover Street. Being so Bentley mad I

knew just where to see Bentley cars in their other agents’ showrooms. When I learned that at Duff and Adlingtons in Upper St. Martin’s Lane, the Duff was none other than Captain J.F. Duff,

CHAPTER

winner of the Le Mans 24-hour race with F.C. Clement in 1924, I

always visited their showrooms. Friends of my father’s were looking for a second car and I was successful in persuading them to consider a 3-litre long chassis open touring Bentley, advertised by Duff and Adlingtons. In this way I was able to meet Captain Duff when we went to see the car. Unfortunately, they did not like the Bentley, and instead bought an Armstrong-Siddeley from Harrods Garage in Chelsea. But the visit was very worthwhile as Captain Duff was very informative and gave me a little Bentley badge, which I sometimes still wear, and a signed photograph. I saw quite a lot of Captain Duff and he was always very affable, and later gave me the radiator grille filler cap and tommy bar carried by the Bentley at Le Mans in 1924, duly inscribed with the event and names of the drivers. At that time the car had been re-bodied as a saloon and the tommy bar was not very appropriate so it was fitted with a flying-B mascot. For many years I used this tommy bar on the top of the radiator caps on my cars. In those days such things were of no particular value and not liable to be stolen. After the war I gave it to the Bentley Drivers’ Club and today it is on a plinth, and is awarded each year to the most successful 3-litre Bentley driver of the year. Land Speed Record cars have become more and more specialized over the years, and I have never been particularly keen on them. However, just one — Campbell’s 1927 Napier-Campbell — has always seemed to me to be one of the best looking racing cars.

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A treasured signed photograph given to me by Campbell, pictured wiping the windscreen of Bluebird on Pendine Sands. T have always considered this particular version of Bluebird to be one of the best looking racing cars of all time.

PLS

J. Maina was the designer for Campbell, and the car was produced at the KLG works at what later became the start of the Kingston by-pass. Vickers made a very deep chassis frame and the ‘Broad Arrow 12 cylinder’ Napier-Lion aero engine was placed far back behind the massive front axle. The whole thing was in the best traditional design, including the centrelock wirewheels. For me this was the last real racing car that went for the record: all the later versions were just LSR Specials.

ST iit OE The village of Essendon lay a few miles North of us, and in the big house lived Lord Essendon who was in the shipping business and my father used to meet him with the Yarrows. None of this concerned or interested me at all, but Lord Essendon’s son, the Hon. Brian Lewis was mad about cars and, like me, was

determined to be a racing driver. Though we were kindred spirits, he was several years older than me, and in one’s early teens, a few years makes a big difference. When I first knew Brian he was seventeen, and had just been

given his first car, an open Austin 7. It was not a sports model but he gave me some rides round the village demonstrating his wish to go racing. Never a dull moment! On the first occasion, we came down Essendon Hill flat out with no hope of negotiating the right angle corner at the bottom. Very fortunately the gate was half open in the field immediately opposite the corner. We just squeezed through and came to rest the right way up, but bogged down amongst the turnips. A few days later, Brian gave me another demonstration of his racing prowess. Failing to negotiate the double S corner in the middle of the village we crossed the road and hit the kerb. The Austin turned on its side and Brian and I were catapulted over the path into the ditch. We were quite unhurt At Brooklands George Reynolds, who was usually Chief Timekeeper, flags Malcolm Campbell away in the Ballott. Next in line is Joyce in the very pretty little

AC.

but rather dirty and wet. There were no repercussions: not even a bent wheel or puncture, so we righted the car and continued our way with only slightly diminished enthusiasm! These incidents are of interest only because, strangely enough with this unlikely start, Brian developed into a brilliant and very safe driver. Within a year he was competing in Bugatti cars with some success.

One day, we were together at a club meeting at Brooklands.

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Brian was hoping to join one of Malcolm Campbell’s companies as a salesman. We were at Campbell’s shed talking to Leo Villa, who said, ‘“The Skipper is coming along in a minute with a Bentley that he’s borrowed from the Bentley Company’’. We knew that Campbell was not racing that day but we hung around because, of course, I wanted to see the Bentley. In due course he arrived with a beautiful black Vanden Plas open speed model, very much my favourite car of the moment. Brian hopped into the car in front with Campbell and they said that I could go along too, sitting on Brian’s lap. The rear compartment was covered by the tonneau. When there was a lull between races we drove down the old Finishing Straight to the Fork. Marshals were walking about and cars were being lined up for the start of the next race. We got out and watched E.V. Ebblewhite, the official starter, walking up and down the row of cars, looking at his watches and starting the cars one by one. Previously, the nearest I had been to the real action was inside the Paddock and occasionally at the parade on the finishing straight. This starting area was hallowed ground for me and I tried to look as though I was used to it, strutting around, nonchalantly, amongst the competitors. When the race finished (it was only a short handicap of two or three laps) we climbed back into the Bentley and Campbell did a complete lap of the outer circuit. Sitting on Brian’s lap, the top of my head was above the windscreen so it felt quite fast though in fact we only went at a moderate speed of about 70 miles per hour, and Campbell and Brian were chatting all the time. I remember the firm suspension with very short and sharp bumps, the lovely whine of the gears and the sensation of acceleration as Campbell went through the gears. The railway straight did not seem so very long and the Byfleet Banking was not as narrow as it looked from the Members Hill. We kept about half way up the Banking, but it was a wonderful feeling and when we reached the Fork again I realized how the sheer size of the track dwarfed the speed. Back in the Paddock, I spent nearly all day looking at the cars in their stalls and listening to scraps of conversation amongst the drivers and mechanics. As always my favourites were the Bentleys, on this occasion fairly standard 3-litre speed models rather like the one I had ridden in. Amongst the real racing cars I liked the Bugattis, except for one feature ... I suppose the first Bugatti I ever noticed was Woolf Barnato’s Indianapolis model which did not excite me very much. Then I saw a number of little Brescia models, very short stumpy little cars, very simple and with only a bonnet, two bucket seats and a bolster fuel tank behind. I liked those cars and saw them raced by B.S. Marshall and Frank Taylor; I also saw exciting pictures of Raymond Mays driving this model at Shelsley Walsh Hillclimb. Then in 1924 Bugatti produced the immortal Type 35, an absolutely beautiful car, but for me completely spoilt by dreadful heavy looking wheels. For a year or so I only saw those wheels in pictures, and I think that the first Bugatti aluminium wheels that I ever saw on a car were on Malcolm Campbell’s odd-looking single-seater 1100cc model. I thought they looked terrible, as they

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did on Glen Kidson’s two-seater Type 35. To my great delight, Malcolm Campbell said he did not trust the new wheels, and I was always very influenced by him. He soon sold his single-seater and a bit later, when he bought his own Type 39A 1!/2-litre straight eight, he had it fitted with normal type wirewheels. For me, a real racing car had to have the traditional Rudge Whitworth centrelock wirewheels, and thankfully many of the Grand Prix Bugattis in England had them: many other people at that time disliked the aluminium wheels. I assumed that traditional

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Gok Nutting.

The Napier Lion engine — Villa and Miller at work.

Le Mans 1925. No. 10 Bentley has run out of fuel near Pontlieue and is retired.

wirewheels were lighter, but of course I was wrong, the aluminium wheels with their integral brakes were in fact considerably lighter, and eventually I accepted their appearance and in the end even

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Appearance has always meant a great deal to me, more than it should, and this certainly applied to the new front wheel drive Alvis cars that I was seeing at Brooklands. Most of these, and all the sports models, had very ugly bodies and the only ones that I really liked were one of C.M. Harvey’s little sprint machines and

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the disc-wheeled straight-eight Grand Prix models raced by Harvey and Lord Cottenham in the 1926 200 miles race.

CHAPTER

I learned a lot at Brooklands. On one occasion I learned something quite new and nothing directly connected with motor racing. It happened this way. Dudley Park and I had been at a BARC meeting. We had come in the 10-30 Alvis. It had been a good day and as always I was loath to leave. We hung around in the Paddock watching people packing up their racing cars. Sometimes I was allowed to join in the activities, helping to push cars on to trailers or into vans and that sort of thing. When the excitement had subsided in the Paddock, we drove up the aerodrome road to see if there was anything doing in the sheds by the Aero Club. On a previous occasion I had been with Brian Lewis to see a Morgan, I think it was at Granville Grenfells.

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We parked the Alvis by the clubhouse and Dudley went to look at an aeroplane. I went snooping round the racing car sheds. Alistair Miller’s Sunbeam was outside one, and the door was open. I poked my nose round and saw the tail of a racing car and heard voices in a second part of the shed where again the door was partly open. Having met Alistair several times, when he was always very amiable, I walked through. A girl, completely naked, except that she was wearing a cloche hat, was lying on her back across the cockpit of an Amilcar. By the side of her head was Alistair, minus his trousers. At the other side of the car, by the south-eastern end of the girl, was another man whom I had also previously met. I don’t recall his name but I think he was one of the flying instructors. He, like Alistair, was not over-dressed.

They were very busy, up to something that I had not yet experienced, though I had heard exciting rumours about it. Realizing that it was a rather private party, I left the scene, but not before I had had time to take in quite a lot of the action. Oddly, it was the men who seemed to be embarrassed by my intrusion despite the fact that they were rather more clothed than the girl.

She was very comely and seemed only to be amused. Some weeks later, I met them all again at the aero club. The girl, whom they called Ginger, said to me “I guess you lost your eyesight’. I didn’t really know what she meant, but I did realise why she was called Ginger, despite the fact that she had been wearing that cloche hat!

In the Spring of 1928, my last year at school, an event

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happened that was probably the most important milestone in my life. The saga started when Malcolm Campbell bought two of the works Grand Prix Delages. These cars were the fastest and most successful Grand Prix cars in the world, having won nearly all their events the previous year. I had collected many press cuttings on these cars and I knew the specification by heart: straight-eight, supercharged, 1!/2-litres, with the driver seated very low by the side of the propeller shaft as the engine and gearbox were set at an angle enabling the body to be very small and low. The cars were single-seaters with no room for a mechanic 1n the cockpit in contrast to their immediate rivals, the Bugattis, which were

two-seaters. To date Robert Benoist had been the most successful Delage driver.

George Eyston in his Bugatti.

The first of the Delages to be delivered to Campbell had been Benoist’s. The car came with a crate of spares, including several different rear axle ratios. Campbell ran it ‘as delivered’ in the opening Brooklands meeting on Easter Bank Holiday. I could not attend that meeting but I read about it in The Autocar. Campbell told me later that the Delage had been fitted with the wrong axle ratio, and was wrongly geared for the outer circuit so it was not fast enough. However, Campbell loved the feel of the car and with the right ratio on the right circuit reckoned that it would be ideal. The next important racing fixture was the JCC Spring Meeting at Brooklands in which the principal event was going to be the Junior Grand Prix. The circuit to be used was a special one comprising the old Finishing Straight and the Members Banking, with artificial chicanes marked by flags and sand banks halfway

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down the straight and just before the Members Bridge turn. Campbell wanted to run the Delage but the regulations called for the carrying of a riding mechanic, as was usual in many races in those days. Neither Leo Villa, Campbell’s chief mechanic, nor his second man Miller could squeeze into the Delage’s single-seater cockpit with the driver. There was an oil tank which was rather high and not enough leg room. Campbell was very cross and disappointed and reckoned that he would have to drive his Type 39 Bugatti with which he had won the previous year’s 200. A splendid car but not quite as fast as the Delage. Campbell’s private secretary, Joan, made a wonderful suggestion — that I could be squashed into that little cockpit to act as riding mechanic enabling the Delage to be run. She reminded Campbell of my enthusiasm and the fact that I was quite small, and would be home from school for the holidays, and the fact that my age of about sixteen would enable me to be accepted as a mechanic. Campbell thought that it was a splendid idea so he and Villa had another look at the cockpit of the Delage. They reckoned that there would be just enough room for a fairly small lad. In London, at his office, my father received a telephone call from Campbell who explained the situation. He said that I would be just the right size to ride in the Delage so could he borrow me as his riding mechanic for the Grand Prix? My father was horrified and said that it was out of the question, and far too dangerous; Campbell remonstrated but my father was adamant.

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Over dinner that night my parents discussed Campbell’s mad scheme. My mother first of all agreed that it was out of the question but made the point that one day Campbell would be bound to tell me of the chance and that I would never forgive them. On further reflection they considered that since Campbell was racing nearly every weekend and had never had a serious accident perhaps it was not quite so dangerous as it seemed. They realized too that this would mean so much to me that they really ought to give me this opportunity. The next morning my father telephoned Campbell and told him that if he promised to drive very carefully and not take any risks, I could ride with him for this one race.

Campbell was delighted and said he always drove carefully and never took any risks! When I came back from school and learned the wonderful

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news I could scarcely believe it. I walked on air with my head in the clouds for those few days before the great occasion. It was planned that my brother Peter and my mother would drive to Brooklands with Joan Taylor and her sister Eileen in their Austin 12 Saloon. My father did not really like Brooklands because of the noise and smell. He said he would stay at home by the telephone in case there was any terrible news. Anyway he did not really get on with Campbell. My father always expected a lot of attention and had complained that Campbell had been very off-hand when he met him at Brooklands before the start of the 200 the previous year. I had not been present because I was at school but I could just imagine the scene, my father not really fitting in with the Brooklands set. He would have been wearing a bow tie and his monocle, trying to engage Campbell in conversation just before the start of the race, Campbell already in his racing overalls, impatient and in no mood for pleasantries. Though Campbell could be utterly charming when he wanted to be, he was unpredictable and short tempered on occasions. There was no rapport between Campbell and my father. On the great day, arriving at the track quite early we found the little blue Delage all ready. Not yet in Campbell’s Bluebird Blue but in the very pale Saxe Blue of the official Delage team. Villa had fitted a strap for me to hold on to with my right hand behind Campbell’s shoulder and a grab handle for my left hand on the scuttle. I tried the position but I was a bit too high on the cushion on the oil tank. Villa altered the position of the strap and found me a shallower cushion. Campbell sat in with me and reckoned that it was Okay. He warned me that I would get very bumped about and my left side might get a bit hot because it was close to the exhaust pipe. He said that I would have to hold on very tight indeed and he fixed me up with a pair of goggles. There were several other shorter races before the Grand Prix

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so I was free to wander around the Paddock. I was so excited,

almost in a dream. Brian Lewis arrived and he introduced me to some of the other drivers and I had a good look round. I still did not like the look of the aluminium wheels on some of the Bugattis, and much preferred those with the traditional wirewheels. Harvey’s front wheel drive Alvis was rather disappointing in its appearance. This was a road going sports car and not nearly as dashing as the earlier straight eight single seaters that Harvey and Lord Cottenham had raced. On this occasion Harvey was not running in the Grand Prix. I met a disabled driver, Frank Ashby, who was going to drive a lightened and tuned sidevalve Riley in a special handicap race for the disabled. I was very pleased to see him win because the sidevalve Redwing Riley was one of my favourite cars. I also met George Newman, a very large man who showed me his white Salmson, which was very smart and beautifully turned out. I sat at the wheel but could not see over the top of the scuttle! When we were nearing the time for the start of the Grand Prix, Campbell’s wife Dorothy suggested that she and my mother should go off to have tea at the Aero Club. Dolly Campbell said

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she never watched her husband race as it was so frightening: this did nothing to allay my mother’s fears of course but she was still determined to watch. The men painting numbers on the cars first painted No. 6 on the Delage, but then later rubbed it out and painted 9 — my lucky number, 3 x 3. There were class handicaps in the Grand Prix — Austin 7s in the 750cc class; Amilcars and Salmsons in the 1100cc class; un-supercharged 1!/2-litres in the next class and a wonderful field on scratch with the blown cars. Campbell, of course, was the favourite with the Delage but up against a bevy of Bugattis including Capt. G.E.T. Eyston, Chris Staniland and Dr. J.D. Benjafield plus Archie Frazer-Nash in one of his own Boulogne models and Took’s Derby.

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After warming-up in the Paddock, we all roared off to the start, Villa clinging precariously to the tail of the Delage. It often worried me that mechanics sat on the tails of the racing cars when they went up to the start, it looked very exciting but dangerous, but I never did see anyone fall off. The start itself was at an unusual place, almost at the end of the Members Banking over the tunnel. Of course it was facing the wrong way, wrong in the sense that normal races were run in the opposite direction on the outer circuit. Waiting with our cars at the start, Campbell called out to a friend standing by “‘Francis! Come and meet my young mechanic’. In this way I met Viscount Curzon, later Earl Howe, who happened to be starting his own motor racing career at the same time as me — but at a very different level and at a very different age — he was 40. Many things about that occasion are imprinted on my mind and even now I remember inconsequential scraps of conversation between the drivers and mechanics. The limit cars and early classes got away, and after what seemed an age A.V. Ebblewhite, the famous Brooklands starter, walked to his place just ahead of our class. Villa swung the Delage and she burst into life, the eight cylinders remarkably smooth with little vibration. but a satisfying scream of gear wheels. Most of the others were push-started, but Eyston’s and Staniland’s Bugattis

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were started on the handle. Because the start was partly on the banking itself I feared that the tail might, with wheelspin, slip downwards as we got away. Also I was worried because when the flag was raised I thought that Campbell had put the gearlever into the wrong slot! there had been some discussion in the Paddock before the start about the Delage’s unusual gear positions with its 5-speed gearbox, but I needn’t have worried. It was in first gear alright, and we got away magnificently, out-accelerating Eyston with the other Bugattis just behind. Of course I really had nothing to do other than hold on, but

Campbell had told me that I should keep an eye open behind to see

if anyone wanted to pass, and thump him on the back if anyone got really close. He also said that I should remember the number of laps done in case he wanted to know how many laps were left

(there was no lap scoring device on the dash). For the first few laps I could scarcely breathe. Campbell had a raised cowl and an aero screen but I was almost up to my navel in the air stream. However, I soon got used to this. No words can really portray the thrill or the sensations, the speed, the noise, the lovely smell of Castrol R

and the rough ride. It was so different from my previous ride at Brooklands in the 3-litre touring Bentley, the Delage being so small and cramped and so very taut. I was being thrown and jerked about all the time, the car seemingly alive and needing constant steering correction. All the time there was the shrill scream from the gear trains and an occasional spit back from the supercharger. After leaving the Members Bridge turn, Campbell kept quite high on the Members Banking, not cutting the corner at all, in contrast to most of the other cars which were diving off the banking quite early and so cutting the corner to the Fork. Looking round I could see that Eyston and Staniland also kept quite high and just below our slipstream.

Each time we seemed to brake almost impossibly late for the Fork Hairpin. Campbell’s gearchanging was almost instantaneous: swirling round the hairpin in second gear, fighting the wheelspin, flicks of opposite lock as we accelerated away from the corner, using almost the whole width of the finishing straight to get the car

aligned before the squirt to the first chicane. Third gear again, and down to second for the chicane itself. Looking out on my side I could see that the “Skipper” was carving a niche out of the sandbank with the eared cup of the nearside front wheel, sending a

The supercharged cars leaving the line. Left to right: Took (Vernon Special) Captain A.Frazer-Nash (Frazer Nash) G.Newman

(Salmson)

Dr. J.D.Benjafield (Bugatti)

Captain Malcolm Campbell (Delage)

Captain G.E.T.Eyston (Bugatti) C.S.Staniland (Bugatti)

tiny cloud of sand into the air each lap: so meticulously accurate, never more than a tiny niche and never less, always fighting the wheelspin in second gear before snatching third again for the second chicane. The inside rear wheel spun violently on this corner every time, as we climbed the steep slope of the banking under the Members Bridge. Campbell never used the very high fifth speed, though revs were fairly high as we approached the Fork in fourth. Though I could not see it — long tongues of orange flame flickered from the fishtail exhaust of the Delage approaching each corner. The occasional blowback from the supercharger relief valve filled the cockpit with acrid smoke. Campbell took no notice, so I realized that it was of no account. However, these manifestations of smoke

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% and flame terrified my mother who was spectating between the Fork and the first chicane. She feared that the car was catching fire — apparently the performance of the other cars was comparatively tame, at least no flame or smoke. In the first few laps Staniland got fairly close coming up to the Members Bridge turn, but I could see that Campbell was only playing with him, shooting ahead with colossal acceleration in second gear as we climbed very high just beyond the bridge. Campbell grinned at me, obviously enjoying the dice. Looking back over my shoulder on the next lap, after the first chicane, there was no sign of Staniland: apparently he had retired, having blown the engine. Then it was Eyston coming up to challenge us hanging the tail of his car out on occasions. Archie Frazer-Nash was sliding about in typical Nash style. He and his mechanic looked rather odd wearing tall motorcycle crash helmets. We soon lapped Tim Rose-Richards in his Bugatti, as he must have run unsupercharged in the earlier class. His was the very rare wide high-sided ‘Touring Grand Prix’ model.

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Campbell just ahead of Staniland leading a string of cars, including Frazer Nash and Newman’s Salmson, on the second chicane entering the top corner with the Test Hill in the background.

Although it was quite obvious that Eyston wanted to pass, I

never needed to thump the Skipper’s back, because Eyston never got near enough to be a real threat. My only problem was that coming off the banking at high speed I was thrown high into the airstream, and each time my goggles were blown off my eyes and onto my neck. I put them back each lap when we reached the comparative calm of the Fork Hairpin. Campbell noticed this and asked me what was the matter. I told him that the goggles were too loose. On the next lap as we were tearing round the top of the Members Banking I felt Campbell’s hand scratching at the strap of my goggles round the back of my head. He was trying with one hand to adjust them whilst steering the car with the other. I, with nothing to do, was using both hands to hold on! Shamefully, I assured him that I could cope ... At all the corners Campbell consistently outbraked Eyston. He only allowed the Bugatti to regain some of the distance on the

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run round the banking. Campbell’s technique surprised me, he could have gained the advantage on acceleration but obviously

preferred to play it the other way. Hendy’s little Austin led for the first eleven laps, but it was obvious that we were mopping up all the smaller cars which had started earlier and would eventually lead. As we were lapping the field the Frazer Nashes looked the most exciting, getting very sideways on braking, A.P. Glenney almost spinning in front of us at the Fork: Campbell, as cool as a cucumber, instantly taking evasive action with a different and tighter line on the corner. George Newman in his very high white Salmson, which had gone splendidly on the outer circuit, was surprisingly fast through the corners though the car looked as though it would be unstable with its narrow track and high driving position. Towards the end of the race, after we had taken Hendy, and lapped nearly all the rest, Campbell shouted to me that we had a good lead, so he throttled back a bit. I had completely lost count of the number of laps — thank heaven he never asked me! I relaxed a little and was able to take a better look at what was happening to the other competitors. Eyston seemed to be secure in second place though Dr. Benjafield was sliding about just behind him trying to get closer.

Eyston following us into the

top corner.

Campbell lapping Took and Hendy under the Members Bridge.

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Suddenly there was the chequered flag — we had won! Campbell grinned at me as he lifted the throttle. He pushed his goggles up on his forehead, so I did the same, as he acknowledged the waves of the crowd at the railings and his friends behind the sandbank at the top corner. We toured round quite slowly on the flat ground at the bottom of the Members Banking. Now for the first time I was conscious of the crowd, and could even see the

faces of the people clapping at the railings. At the Fork we almost stopped when Major Harvey shouted his congratulations — he was standing with the officials on the track. I could see his front-wheel-drive Alvis parked beyond the corner. Campbell knew exactly where my mother was spectating, so at the end of the slowing down lap he pulled up opposite her, so that he could reassure her that I was safe and sound. Eyston was second, Dr. Benjafield third, fourth was Archie Frazer-Nash and Took was fifth in his very attractive Vernon Derby Special. As was expected, the blown cars from scratch dominated the race. Climbing out of the car I was told to get back again for Press photographs (I see from the resulting photographs that I replaced my goggles upside down!). Only then did I realize that my trousers were scorched on the left side, and there was a distinct

smell of burnt boy. But this was as nothing compared with my feeling of elation: my happiness was complete, I was Campbell’s mechanic and we had won the Grand Prix. Campbell took me up into the clubhouse and included me in general conversation round the bar. I remarked on the wonderful acceleration of the Delage and I remember Campbell’s reply. He said ‘“‘And the brakes!” and went on to explain that he knew he would be able to out-accelerate the Bugattis but did not realize that the Delage had such wonderful

brakes. After that race, which had been a tough one with a great

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deal of hard cornering and gearchanging — rather like a miniature Monaco Grand Prix — Campbell suggested that he and his friends Eyston, Benjafield and Tim Rose-Richards should see how still they could hold their hands with arms outstretched. All had a considerable amount of shake except Campbell’s hands which were completely still. I came to realise later that this was typical. Campbell had no nerves at all, and even in his land speed record

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attempts I don’t think he ever knew the meaning of fear. When we left the clubhouse and returned down the steps to the Paddock, I found myself being interviewed by the Press, and signing autographs! Before we set off for home we watched the final event on the programme, a competition up the Test Hill. Major Harvey gave a demonstration run in his front-wheel-drive Alvis, which was very exciting, the spinning front wheels were dancing up and down at the start. He seemed to fly into the air at the crest and his was the fastest climb. It was only a demonstration, not an official run, but I was glad to be able to remember it over fifty years later, when I too made fastest time of the day at Brooklands on that same Test Hill in my Alvis in 1983! This momentous day in April 1928 was really the beginning

of the realization of my dream, and I was still a schoolboy with another term to go before I entered the real world. Of the people I met with Malcolm Campbell on that day, one was destined to play a major part in my life, Viscount Curzon. He had become a great friend of Campbell’s and had just tried a

Type 43 Bugatti at Brooklands. He fell for that car on the spot, bought it and entered for a race. Within a few weeks he decided

that he would do it seriously and ordered another brand new Type 43 as well.Though in different ways we were both learning from Campbell; our enthusiasm was strangely similar despite the age difference. At my next Brooklands meeting I remember Campbell

and Curzon walking round the Paddock with me and Campbell saying “‘See Francis, he knows all the cars and drivers’. Without doubt, I was rather spoiled by them, it is difficult to imagine today but in the 1920s, motor racing was almost a private world and it was quite rare to find a schoolboy with such intimate knowledge. Back to school again, but only for one term. My experience with Malcolm Campbell in the Delage added further confidence. From now on there could never be any doubt at all, this was indeed my life — cars and motor racing. Every single motor journal had to be obtained and perused. School work, except for drawing and some geometry that might be useful when designing racing cars, could be dismissed and forgotten as soon as possible. I was lucky in that I really did not have to work and did not have to sit for any exams. It was sufficient that I was an opening batsman in the

school’s boy has order to I

cricket First Eleven. What a change from today when every to work hard and not only sit for exams but pass them in qualify for a reasonable job ... was very surprised and often disappointed with the private

cars of some of the racing drivers. Malcolm Campbell’s road cars, his everyday transport, were Rolls-Royce saloons. At different times

he had Phantom I and II and a Continental, a Twenty, then a Twenty-five, all saloons. His wife usually drove a very ordinary Austin 12, another saloon. There was usually something else in his garage, something open, and even a sports car, but his everyday transport, even in the summer weather, was a saloon. Why? I just The 1928, JCC Junior Grand

Prix at Brooklands. Captain Malcolm Campbell in the winning Delage after the race.

couldn’t understand. I asked him about that open 3-litre Bentley in which he took me round Brooklands. He said he didn’t really like Bentleys, “too rough”. What about an open Bugatti? “On

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occasions’, he said. When not racing, Campbell was usually dressed for the city, and even wore a bowler hat! To me this seemed strange and did not seem to fit his image. His great rival, Major Segrave, was even more out of character. I first saw him arriving at Brooklands in an Armstrong Siddeley saloon, then several times in a Hillman fixed head coupe. Admittedly, the Hillman did have eight cylinders, but a closed car, not even a real sports model. Why wasn’t he driving an open 3-litre Sunbeam? Woolf Barnato was often in a Mercedes saloon and in the Paddock at Brooklands I saw Glen Kidston driving a coupé Hispano-Suiza.

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How could such people bear to drive around in closed cars? Now, if I were in their position I would be driving open sports cars, even in the winter. Oh dear! I thought, are the top racing drivers really my sort of enthusiasts? Would I be like that when I became old, about forty? Is that the penalty of great age? However, many of the racing drivers did indeed seem to prefer open sports cars. Major Coe, who was quite old, certainly in his thirties, always came to Brooklands in an open 30/98 Vauxhall. Dr. Benjafield who must have been really ancient as he was quite bald, drove an open 3-litre Bentley. Best of all — Viscount Curzon, who was about forty, was obviously a terrific enthusiast although he was nearly the age of my father. He drove his open Bugatti, his boat-tailed Mercedes or his 3-litre Sunbeam, all very open. Even when I saw him in the winter in London he was driving the Mercedes with the hood down, and was wearing goggles and helmet. My sort of enthusiast, and it was good to see over the years that it lasted. For many generations his family, steeped in the traditions of the Royal Navy, had served this country at sea. In the first World War he served in H.M.S. Queen Elizabeth and later became A.D.C. to King George V.'\After the war he went into politics and

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represented South Battersea for the Conservatives. In Parliament he became Chief Whip for the Party, but became notorious for the number of times he was summonsed for exceeding the speed limit. Up to the time that he bought his first Bugatti his favourite cars had been his 30/98 Vauxhall and his 3-litre Sunbeam. I did not see his first race because I had gone back to school, but it was the Surbiton 150 mile race at Brooklands and he finished second in his Bugatti, already making his mark. My very first drive in a Bugatti had been in that car. Lord Curzon was on a visit to Malcolm Campbell, and when the car had to be moved further up his drive to allow someone to get out, he said I could move it for him. I had been talking to him and Campbell and I must have given him the impression that I knew these cars very well. I jumped at the opportunity and fortunately there was someone else at hand who knew all the controls, and I

was able to start the car and move it further up the drive, in first gear, without any difficulty. I do not know if my studied, matter of fact manner about the whole thing convinced Lord Curzon, but I could see from Campbell’s expression that I wasn’t fooling him! I saw only very few races in which Major Segrave competed, none of the great ones and none of his records. In the 1920s I didn’t see any Continental races but relied on the motor journals which covered them well; I was however an avid listener to

Viscount Curzon, wearing his cloth cap, supervising petrol being put into his first Type 43 Bugatti outside Campbell’s shed in the Paddock at Brooklands. No, the two gentlemen wearing bowlers are not a music hall turn!

conversations between the drivers. Montlhéry had been built in 1924 and its likeness to Brooklands fascinated me, so I was particularly interested to overhear a long conversation between Campbell and Segrave comparing the circuits. They were both full of praise for the safety retaining wall at Montlhéry and were trying to persuade the Brooklands authorities to build one all round the Byfleet, Members and Home Bankings. (That stretch of banking between the Members Bridge and the Railway Straight used to be called the Home Banking, but in later years the term was seldom used). I remember that when the Banking retaining wall was further considered, Segrave was in favour of wood and Campbell thought it should be concrete. However, nothing came of it. I believe the idea originated in America where nearly all banked circuits used retaining walls. At that time, and in fact throughout its existence,

Brooklands was much criticized. There were always complaints about noise from the inhabitants of St. George’s Hill, and constant moans from drivers about their unfair handicaps. One of the few complaints that I had about the racing of that time was that so many important races were started far away from the spectators on the Railway Straight: for me the start has always been one of the most interesting parts of an event. Watching ‘Ebby’ walking down the line of cars looking at his watches and starting them with his little Union flag, is one of my most vivid Brooklands memories. After he had retired from racing himself, I got to know Lord Cottenham. He was a great sportsman and one of his other interests was amateur boxing. Both he and Woolf Barnato were members of the Fitzroy Lodge Club where they sparred together, despite their different weights, Barnato being a heavyweight and Mark Cottenham a middleweight, as was another motor racing

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enthusiast in the club, one time Grand Prix driver, Lt. Col. J.T.C. Moore-Brabazon (later Lord Brabazon of Tara). Mark Pepys was the sixth Earl of Cottenham, and was a very promising racing

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driver, but gave it up because of family pressure. He continued as a senior official of the BARC and became a prolific author of motor books. His greatest friend was de Hane Segrave to whom he dedicated his novel A// Out. This is one of the few fictional books on racing that have accurately reflected the motor racing scene of the twenties. My only visit to the Alvis works at Coventry before the war was in Pepys’ company, when he introduced me to the company’s driver Major C.M. Harvey. Harvey signed a photograph of the 1923 200 Mile Race Alvis, but somehow or other I managed to leave it behind at Coventry, and have regretted it ever since. Soon after my father had joined the Metropolitan Special Constabulary, its instigator Col. Vickers Dunfee and his son Jack helped Lord Cottenham and Malcolm Campbell with the inauguration of the Metropolitan Flying Squad based at Hendon Police College. Those rather tenuous connections between motor racing and the police were to be helpful some years later when I did some work with the Vice Squad and Flying Squad at Scotland Yard. As soon as I left school I devoted all my waking hours to cars and motor racing. Oh yes, it was my world all right but with whom could I share it? Not with anyone in the family, though I tried hard. Nobody in my age group, not even my greatest friends: they all paid lip service to the sport of motor racing and were keen up to a point. When they were with me I could enthuse them, I could lead them and they would follow, but it was not their world as it was mine. In a sense I was a loner. My closest friend, Denis Ibbotson, living quite close to us, was two years my junior. Tall, athletic and good looking, but shy and reserved, he was tragically invalided by polio (in those days it was called infantile paralysis) at the age of ten. As children we had scooted, cycled and raced our pedal cars. I gave him the nickname of Beano, mistakenly believing that that was the correct pronunciation of the French racing driver, Benoist. He remained Beano to his friends all his life. Bravely manipulating his crutches, he accompanied me to Brooklands and all the other racing events, but in no sense was it his sport. His interest and enthusiasm were only kindled by my own. Needless to say, of all the races in the calendar those in which Campbell drove the Delage were the most important to me, but to my great regret there were no more events in which he had to carry a riding mechanic. The practice of carrying a mechanic had already ceased in the principal Grands Prix and already at Brooklands there was some feeling that mechanics should not ride with the drivers. Even in 1929 there were ‘do gooders’ who tried to legislate against people taking risks with their own lives. In fact, I was convinved that the riding mechanic was an aid to safety. He was often able to alert his driver to another car attempting to pass, to keep an eye on vital gauges, to give warning of mechanical faults, of impending tyre failures and in some instances even helping with actions like pulling on the brakes. Those who rode with the drivers at Brooklands did so because they loved it. I am all for reasonable regulations for the safety of the public, but even so

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only reasonable precautions should be taken. After all, no one has ever been compelled to watch motor racing, just as no one has ever been compelled to drive or act as a mechanic. Campbell’s Delage proved an excellent acquisition, continuing its winning ways in Campbell’s hands just as it did when Benoist led the Delage team in 1927. Campbell’s second Delage, arrived in England in May. It looked just like the first one in the same Saxe Blue, except that the bonnet was a brand new one in unpainted aluminium. Presumably the original bonnet had been damaged; Villa said he thought there had been a fire in which it had been blistered. Since Campbell’s first Delage was going to be repainted in Bluebird Blue, Villa swapped the bonnets so the second car looked quite correct. After testing the second car at Brooklands, Campbell put it away at the back of his shed and never raced it. During the following winter he sold it to Mrs. W.B. Scott. On my birthday, June 23rd 1928, Campbell took the newly painted first Delage to Southport for the sand races. In practice there were patches of very wet sand and Leo Villa said it was a shame to have the beautiful Delage so plastered, but it ran very well and sounded fine. First of all there were standing start straight mile sprints with four cars running together. Campbell with the Delage ran alongside Raymond Mays in the Vauxhall-Villiers. Campbell, being an absolute master of the getaway, won his event and no one beat his time, so once again the Delage was victorious. The big race was the ‘Southport 100’ on a simple course with pylons at each end of the long straight. There was a fine entry with Dan Higgin, a very spectacular driver, who was also very popular (he was the local butcher), in a Sunbeam. There were several 30/98 Vauxhalls, a wellknown lady driver, May Cunliff with a Sunbeam and Raymond Mays with the Vauxhall-Villiers and, of course, the favourite, Campbell with the Delage. Raymond Mays was push-started by many helpers and was kept running on the line for a long while. Villa started the Delage on the handle at the very last moment, just before the starter raised his flag. Again Campbell streaked into the lead, both he and Mays went wide around the pylons avoiding the deep ruts in the sand close in, where other competitors slid their tails on tighter lines. However, when Campbell looked an easy winner, the Delage came almost to a standstill leaving the North pylon and coasted in. The back axle had broken. This left Raymond Mays on his own in the lead. Then there was a shocking accident when May Cunliff skidded violently and, hitting one of the deep ruts at the South pylon, rolled the Sunbeam. She was thrown clear but her mechanic was trapped underneath the car and killed outright. We learned later that the mechanic was May Cunliff’s father, who only that morning had decided to ride with his daughter to see what it was like. The tragedy cast a shadow over the meeting and spoiled the pleasure for Raymond Mays on his victory. For Campbell, his win in the sprint meant little. Villa was absolutely disgusted with the amount of sand in and on everything, saying it was disgraceful that such a beautiful and exquisite piece of machinery as the Delage should be so treated. He said he hoped that the Skipper would never race that car on the sand again — and he never did.

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A week later, in its garage in Surrey, the Delage looked brand new

again; every speck of sand had been removed. Its next event was the 200 miles race at Brooklands. Campbell, having won the race the previous year was determined to win again. In 1927 he had his Type 39A Bugatti, and now the Delage would be the obvious choice. Thoughout the week prior to the race Campbell was ill with a tummy upset, and was running a high temperature. Brian Lewis was nominated as his reserve driver. Campbell’s doctor forbade him to drive and Brian drove the Delage in the first practice session. Campbell assured everyone that he himself would drive on the day, temperature or not, despite the doctor’s orders. Then Archie Frazer-Nash fell sick, too. When Brian said that he was quite sure that Campbell would drive in the race, Brian accepted nomination as reserve driver for Archie as well, and had a second practice run in the Frazer-Nash. On race day Campbell appeared ready to race.

Asked if he still had a temperature he said he certainly was not fool enough to find out! When the flag fell it was Campbell in the Delage and Brian Lewis in the Frazer-Nash who led, beating George Eyston in his

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Bugatti who sat between them on the line. There was a very big field, and all the cars were required to carry large vertical number discs on their tails. On one of the cars a disc flew off during the first few laps and several were blown almost horizontal because there was a strong cross wind blowing across the Byfleet Banking. Campbell simply dominated the race just as he did when I rode with him earlier in the year. Yet another victory, and this time Villa

was pleased with the immaculate Delage as at the end of the race, it looked as if it had just been pushed out of the showrooms, such a contrast from its condition after the sand racing at Southport! Donald Campbell and I still did not like one another much.

I thought him rather soft, and I deplored his lack of enthusiasm for motor racing. In truth I think he was always too close to the scene, and the Skipper must have been pretty impossible as a father. I only saw one side of Malcolm’s character, but through his close friends I realised that there was another side that was very different

IAAL,

indeed. He was almost childlike in some of his enthusiasms, his

jokes and his sense of fun. His persistent drive enabled him in later

Just leaving the line with a lot of wheelspin and some exhaust smoke is Malcolm Campbell driving the Delage at Brooklands.

years to mount all those world speed record attempts; his skill and undoubted bravery made most of them very successful. He certainly had that special mix of talents that fitted well with his future position as a speed king. His ‘Bluebirds’ were always beautifully presented, and did much to enhance British prestige. When they were demonstrated at Brooklands I felt that this was a very good thing, because we really did not have much else in the way of top racing cars. Malcolm Campbell’s escapades off the racing track continued to excite and interest me, though my father was seldom amused. Malcolm must have been a great trial to his family. On one occasion he was taking them all out to lunch at an hotel some distance away. The Skipper was at the wheel of his Phantom II Rolls-Royce: coming down a hill at a good speed approaching a level crossing they could see that the gates were closed to the road and a train was coming. Malcolm shouted that the brakes had failed as the car continued at an unabated speed towards the gates. At the very last moment he applied the brakes and the car slid sideways with all wheels locked only inches from the gates and the train. Malcolm roared with laughter at his great joke, but Dolly Campbell and the rest of the family were quite upset. Donald told me later that it quite spoiled their lunch. Then there was a tricky situation with regard to a London taxi. It happened well outside the Metropolis quite close to Campbell’s home. Campbell in that same Phantom II tried to overtake a taxi. The driver, of course not knowing who was at the wheel of the Rolls-Royce, kept him back thinking that the driver was being a bit pushy — which he probably was. Campbell got very cross and eventually cut him up and forced him off the road. The taxi overturned into a ditch. The driver was only slightly injured and Campbell took him straight to hospital and saw that he was very well looked after. He arranged for the taxi to be repaired, and the driver well compensated. That taxi driver became one of Campbell’s devoted fans, but it might have been very different. All this was rather typical of the Skipper, and at the time I thought it

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was all marvellous, but I now understand why my parents were not all that amused. I learned later that though Campbell was much admired at the Flying Squad at Hendon, he did tend to be an embarrassment because at the slightest suggestion of his being on police business, he drove flat out, totally ignoring speed limits. Then there was trouble when Campbell shot an intruder at his home; no doubt the man was intending burglary, but Campbell had been a bit trigger-happy. During the general strike when Malcolm Campbell and my friend Dudley Pank were on duty at a scene of some violence, it was typical that both of them had to be restrained from overdoing the action. They both loved any excuse for a bit of excitement and a fight. Having by now left school, a decision had to be made with regard to my career. Both my parents would have liked me to go into the Church. On my father’s side of the family there were good precedents, and it would have fitted in very well with the family life. My mother had an alternative; whenever the Church was mentioned she said “‘or a school master”. Well! Needless to say, no one else ever considered that possibility. What could I teach? The history of motor racing was not in any curriculum that I knew of. But the Church was not for me, though I did like the singing. It really had to be cars, and if possible, fast cars. I was lucky, very lucky, as the nearest motor manufacturer was Bentley Motors Ltd with their works at Cricklewood in North London,

only about ten miles away. My father knew the Company Chairman, Captain Woolf Barnato, but there was a bit of a

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problem because my father did not like him at all. The Barnato lifestyle was far removed from the ecclesiastical life he would have preferred for his eldest son. Barnato, a millionaire sportsman playboy, was often in the Press limelight, pictured with glamorous stars of stage and screen in fashionable night clubs — no, not really my father’s scene at all. I think they met only in the City on Stock Exchange financial deals. However in the end, both my father and mother agreed that there was no other possible career for me, so I was taken up to London to meet the Bentley Company Chairman. Meeting Barnato was a great moment for me as he had just won the Le Mans 24 hour race in a 4!/2-litre. After introducing me, my father sat back and listened while I answered Barnato’s questions. He was smiling and seemed very friendly, asking me how I enjoyed riding with Campbell and asking what I knew about Bentleys. I gave him a quick resumé of the specifications of the Bentley range and I listed their racing successes. He must have been impressed, for he said of course I should join the Company and immediately arranged for me to go to the works at Cricklewood for an interview. I listened while Barnato explained to my father that although Bentleys had no indentured apprenticeship scheme, they usually had up to a dozen boys, mostly the sons of Directors or customers, who went through the works at Cricklewood or the

Service Department at Kingsbury serving apprenticeship terms, prior to making careers in the motor industry. I felt that the meeting with Barnato was wonderful, and was convinced that life at

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Bentleys was going to be perfect. A meeting was fixed with Mr Witchell, the Works Manager at Cricklewood three weeks hence. My father considered that I should have some practical experience of working on cars beforehand, so I was sent to stay with an uncle who had several cars. They had a very good chauffeur who had been with the family for ages and was known to my family as a great mechanical expert. This aged chauffeur was detailed to instruct me on the workings of the motor car. He was a dear old boy, but no instructor, and I

cannot remember much that he told me. I can only remember taking out the sparking plugs of the big De Dion Bouton and cleaning them. Came the day for my interview at the works. I found Mr.

Witchell unsmiling and rather curt, very different from Woolf Barnato. He asked me, ““What will be your ambition at Bentleys?” I answered him straight away — “‘To drive at Le Mans and lead the team!” I wilt when I think of it now — what an absurd reply, but Witchell did not bat an eyelid, he just said ‘Oh yes ... ”’ without any further comment. He arranged for me to start on the following Monday. So I was in — only just a little deflated by Witchell’s curt manner after Barnato’s friendliness, but definitely in.

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My apprenticeship started in the engine erecting shop under their charge hand, George Lindfield. My life at Bentleys as an apprentice at the works, in the Demonstration Department, and then later as their junior salesman in the showrooms in the West End of London is told in detail in my book Bentley Past and Present. So here I will only mention briefly that part of my life. Apprenticeship at Bentleys was very different from the very organized and complete schemes operating at motor manufacturers today. It was even different from other motor manufacturers of those times. In 1928 the works at Cricklewood was hardly a manufacturing establishment, but more of an assembly factory. It

was not until about a year later that new machine shops and a brick office block and drawing office were built. George Lindfield was wonderfully understanding and became

my friend throughout the time I was at the works. I had so looked forward to being at Bentleys that my attitude to the place and the job was unreal. It seemed ridiculous that I was to be paid, in fact it was only 9s 6d per week, but I would have gladly paid the company more than that for the privilege of being allowed to work there! It was all very different from what I had expected. For the men working at Cricklewood it was just a job, not a privilege. Few of the men had any interest in the racing so I grew up and came to understand another way of life. I soon made good friends and one man more than any other helped me in those early days and remains a valued friend today — Billy Rockell. He was a fitter in the engine erecting shop and we worked back to back. Whilst I was working on water pump castings, he was building up complete engines. Bill was about ten years my senior and had been at Bentleys since 1921. He knew everyone and all the ropes, and he became my confidant.

To my great regret the actual preparation of the racing team cars was done at the service depot a few miles away at Kingsbury.

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During my first six months at Cricklewood I worked only in the engine erecting shop on components for the 4!/2 and 6!/2-litre units (the 3-litre was out of production and the 8-litre engine was still in the experimental shop). My first move was into the engine test shop. In those days no one used ear plugs so with several

Myself at the wheel of a

6!/2-litre Bentley whilst an engineering apprentice at the Bentley Works in Cricklewood, North London.

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engines running at high revs you could really hear the roar and feel the vibration. Anxious to demonstrate my manhood, I started smoking but took no pleasure in it and wondered why other people found it pleasurable. I tried inhaling but that was even worse, so I tried a pipe. I thought it looked rather nice when I looked in the mirror and I imagined that it gave me a rather stern and confident appearance — but it was so much nicer if I did not light it that in the end I gave it up. It was much the same with drink; first of all I tried beer, and then everything else: but I just didn’t like the taste. Taking too much only made me dizzy and sick, it did not give me any lift. Becoming almost a non-drinker and a non-smoker worried me a bit. My father had told me that he never trusted a man who did not drink or smoke. I suppose there must be something in it and I admit that I quite often find that I do not like other non-drinking and non-smoking types. Yet again I have found that over the years some of my greatest friends are like me in these respects. It is not that I disapprove of drinking and smoking at all, I simply do not enjoy either activity. Mr W.O. Bentley himself was often in the works, walking slowly round the shops smoking his pipe. He was always immaculately and very conservatively dressed with a very solemn expression. He was a man of few words; never pompous, he carried his dignity with quiet charm. There was tremendous respect for him everywhere. Sometimes one of the drivers would come round with him, and this always made the day for me. I very much enjoyed my sessions in the drawing office under the Chief, Charles Sewell.

Unfortunately, I was not a good draughtsman, although I liked the work. My work was always too quick and too slapdash. Since the racing cars were based at Kingsbury I did not see much of the racing mechanics and I never had a proper session at ‘The Service’ as the depot was called. However, I did get to know

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The chassis erecting shop at Bentleys with Speed Sixes in the foreground, and a chassis ready for road testing on the left.

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one of the greatest racing mechanics, Wally Hassan. In those days he was a tall, lanky youth with an unruly shock of black hair. He would listen to me but I could not persuade him to tell me much about the racing. A little later, Billy Rockell went on to the racing side together with his great friend, Bert Whitlock, so I learned a lot

from both of them. My very first Bentley drives were only a few yards at walking pace in first gear, moving chassis from the chassis erecting shop to the chassis test area. Chassis testing was very exciting because it took place on the ordinary roads. We had no test track and of course, no device like a rolling road. The test bodies were just simple aluminium scuttles with aero screens, two bucket seats with the spare wheel clamped on to blocks at the rear. I had a few runs as mechanic but was never officially allowed to drive although one of the testers did allow me to have a few short runs, well away from possible view. On holiday with my family at Southwold I went to the Lowestoft Speed Trials which were held on the sea front. George Brough made fastest time of the day on his beautiful Brough

George Brough on one of his famous V-twin Brough Superiors.

The Hon. Victoria Worsley in the short chassis Jowett, which she drove in the Lowestoft

Speed Trials and at Brooklands.

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Superior motorcycle but there were some interesting cars as well. There were no Bentleys but there was a fine 12-50 Alvis Sports four-seater and amongst the Austin 7s there was a Gordon England Cup model: this was my favourite Austin. The car that interested me most was a very attractive sports Jowett, — a very short

pointed-tail model that I had already seen at Brooklands. The lady driver, the Hon. Victoria Worsley, kindly showed me the engine and allowed me to sit at the wheel. Meanwhile, Campbell’s next outing with the Delage was abroad in France at Boulogne. This like all his land speed record attempts, was too far away for me so I never saw them. Reports in the motor journals were perused and stories told afterwards by Leo Villa, and sometimes by Campbell himself, kept me fairly well informed. At Boulogne, Campbell scored yet another victory and as usual a new lap record. For some reason or other I believed that the Boulogne racing was on the sands, and I commiserated with Villa, but he told me that the race was on the roads. He told me an amusing story about how Campbell nearly missed the race altogether. Whilst all the other drivers were sitting in their cars revving up on the grid, Campbell was standing by the side of the track deep in conversation with someone. Villa said he ran over to get him, but he continued to talk for some minutes and then walked to the car, leisurely putting on his helmet and goggles, and Villa only just had time to swing the handle as the starter raised the flag. He then made his usual lightning getaway leaving everyone else behind. Going to race meetings, now that I was with the Bentley Company, I felt I was completely involved. Bentley was ‘we’, and ‘we’ were the Le Mans winners. All this, despite the fact that I

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personally had not yet been to the 24-hour race. I attended all the Brooklands meeting though Bentleys had no works entries in the ordinary BARC and club events. At the August Bank Holiday meeting of 1928 I had hoped to be with Malcolm Campbell and his Type 43 Bugatti, but he scratched, having had a row with the BARC. They said he had misled them about the car. (In his entry form for the previous meeting he described the car as a 2.3-litre wide four-seater). He explained that on a previous occasion he had entered two cars in a similar manner — his Type 39A he described as a 1!/2-litre Grand Prix two-seater as it had the narrow body with cut away sides. He had also entered another car for Tim Rose-Richards and he described that car as a 1!/2-litre wide two-seater because it had the wide body with straight sides. Both those entries were accepted on

those terms, so what was wrong with his description of the Type 43? I thought that Campbell was absolutely right, but there was a blazing row going on and Campbell said that unless they apologized he would scratch his entry form from the Bank Holiday meeting. When Campbell was cross, he was very cross; they didn’t apologize and Campbell kept his word. However, the Bank Holiday meeting was a good one and I enjoyed myself. Barnato kept the Bentley flag flying with some good runs in his racing car, now with a new 4!/2-litre engine. Both Jack Dunfee and Frank Ashby did well with their Sunbeam and

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Jack Dunfee, in check cap, is behind the 2-litre Grand Prix Sunbeam at the Shell pumps at Brooklands. Geoffrey Dunfee, in Plus-Fours, is standing beside the nearside rear wheel.

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Riley cars. I helped Jack push the Sunbeam out of its stall for one of the races, and then jumped in Humphrey Cook’s Bentley and we

raced out of the Paddock, down the aerodrome road to the Byfleet Humphrey Cook driving his

privately owned 4!|2, YW

5785, in the 6-Hour Race at Brooklands in 1929. Co-driving with Leslie

Callingham, they finished third. This was the car that Cook drove in the 1928 Tourist Trophy.

Bridge from where we watched the race. It was a new and very exciting vantage point for me. We saw Jack Dunfee and Kaye Don running what I thought was precariously near the top. They were much higher than I was used to seeing on the Members Banking. Humphrey Cook said that the Byfleet was much easier and safer, because it was quite regular on a set curve, so that one could go higher all the way round. I was pleased to see Jack win and he told me afterwards that he had been right on the limit. I had been introduced to Humphrey — in those days he was

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The field rounding Mill Corner and disappearing into the distance in the first lap of the 1928 TT. Note the Lea Francis team, Brooklands Rileys, the Riley Monaco Saloon, and the Ford bringing up the rear.

Mr. Cook to me — by Malcolm Campbell at his office one day. Then I saw him again at the Bentley Works. He seemed very shy and diffident, even with a boy like me. When I asked him questions about his Vauxhalls in comparison with the Bentley, he was surprised and pleased. This started a friendship which led to great things some years later. At the end of the 1928 season there was a very exciting new event, the Tourist Trophy in Northern Ireland. It was not exactly a new event but the TT had not been run for some years, and now

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the race was exactly what we had been looking for. A real long distance sports car race like Le Mans, but not into the night. All the great sports models, English and Continental, were entered and many of the Brooklands drivers were hoping to compete. Bentley entered a full team of 4!/2s, as at Le Mans. However, when the handicaps were announced Bentleys withdrew because they thought that only the small cars had any chance. This was a great

disappointment to me but all my friends seemed to agree that the handicaps gave a much greater advantage to the 1!/2-litre class. However, Tim Birkin and Humphrey Cook entered their own cars and the works gave considerable support with mechanics and every sort of back-up, just as if it were Le Mans. Nearly everyone that I knew in motor racing was involved with the race one way or another. Major C.M. Harvey led a team of front-wheel-drive Alvis cars, and Malcolm Campbell and Viscount Curzon entered their Type 43 Bugattis. There were full

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The 1928 TT. Viscount Curzon driving his second Type 43 Bugatti, which was the actual

car used in the race, on a wet practice session.

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teams of works cars from Riley, Salmson, Lea-Francis, Frazer-Nash and Lagonda plus a lot of private entries as well. For me, this promised to be the sort of road race that I had dreamed about. Lord Curzon brought both of his Bugatti Type 43s: he used his original ex-Campbell car for most of the practice, saving the new one for the race itself. Campbell tried both of Curzon’s cars in practice as well as his own, making sure that they were all okay. He was one of the fastest drivers in practice and a favourite for the race. I found myself rather torn between my allegiances to Campbell and to Bentleys, but when I saw that all the attention of the Bentley personnel was centred around Birkin and his car, I decided that I could attach myself to Humphrey Cook and might even be of some material help. Tim Birkin, dashing, extrovert and very good looking, was the fastest and no doubt the best Bentley bet. I was there in no official capacity but I did odds and ends of chores and helped to keep the Cook car clean and polished. Humphrey seemed pleased that someone was always at hand. Race day was fine and there was an enormous crowd of spectators. At the fall of the flag I was delighted that Humphrey was first off, even leaving Birkin. At the end of the first lap the two Bentleys were leading the pack, Birkin just in front. The first two laps had to be with hoods up. When Campbell came in to lower the hood there was a backfire and a flash from his exhaust pipe which ignited fuel leaking from the Bugatti’s tank: within a few seconds the whole of the car was ablaze. Campbell and Villa squirted fire extinguishers at the fire, and within a few moments there were at least four more in use but it was all to no avail. The heat was tremendous, driving back the marshals, and it was soon clear that the car would be a write-off. Some drivers even slowed down and rolled further extinguishers across the road, but since petrol was pouring out of the tank all the time nothing could stop the fire.

Campbell’s disastrous fire. Note the man in the Scout’s hat; many Scouts helped with first aid and marshalling.

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Urquhart Dykes with his first front wheel drive Alvis passing Sammy Newsome’s Lea Francis in trouble at Newtonnards in the 1928 TT.

We were told later that most of the extinguishers used by the marshals were using water instead of CTC, the former being available in case there was a fire in the Grandstand or pits, but quite unsuitable for putting out a car fire. Campbell, in reply to questions, affirmed that the car was not covered by insurance, but I couldn’t really believe that, since Campbell was in the insurance business and was a member of Lloyds. Curzon was doing quite well with the other Bugatti until it too started to leak petrol from the tank, so he very wisely retired. Both our Bentleys were doing quite well but as expected

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Woods, driving a Lea Francis similar to the winner’s, leading Purdy’s Alvis at Comber.

were not really in the hunt at all. They made little progress against

the very fast cars in the 1!/2-litre class. Right at the end I had hoped that Major Harvey would win with the Alvis, but although he was catching up he just failed to catch Kaye Don in his Lea-Francis, who was to be the victor. My car had been Cook’s Bentley, and though seventh overall doesn’t sound very impressive we were both rather pleased. It was Humphrey’s first real road race, and the same for me at a very different level. He didn’t say much, but I felt that he was pleased to have had my support. About thirty years later, long after he had retired from active motor racing, Humphrey gave me the gold medal that was presented to him on that occasion so I know that my support was worthwhile. That 1928 TT medial is still one of my treasured possessions.

Leon Cushman sitting in his Alvis signing autograph books after being placed second in the 1928 TT.

Captain H.R.S.Birkin’s

4!|2-litre Bentley.

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CHAPTER

After one of his successful land speed record attempts, Malcolm Campbell’s Bluebird was towed in the London Lord Mayor’s Show by one of our Speed Six models in chassis form. Bluebird was at the Bentley works for a week or so for the towing equipment to be made. When Campbell himself came to the works I spent some time with him, Leo Villa and W.O. and I was allowed to be involved in

A A 6!

the project. I enjoyed this very much and at one time I hoped that I would be in the procession itself, but quite rightly Leo Villa sat at the wheel of Bluebird and one of our Head Testers and his mate were in the Bentley. I was rather spoiled by being allowed to go to the motor racing events, but not as a proper mechanic, just as an extra ‘bod’ fetching and carrying and acting as a messenger boy for the drivers. To my great regret, the one race that I never attended with the team was Le Mans. I asked, and made some suggestions as to how I could be useful, but to no avail. It was a company tradition to hold a Le Mans Victory Dance after our wins on the Sarthe Circuit. In 1929 this was held at the Brent Bridge Hotel, just off the North Circular Road and only a few miles from the works. The function was mainly for those concerned with the preparation and racing, but tickets, heavily subsidized by the Company, were made available to me and I took my then current girlfriend. I knew that she and her family knew the Seth-Smiths who were friends of the Birkin family. Knowing that Sir Henry Birkin and almost the whole of the racing team were going to be at the dance I felt that my girlfriend would fit in rather well. I hoped that through her I would have a closer contact with the great Tim Birkin, whom I had met only slightly with Lord Curzon and Campbell at Brooklands. The evening was a memorable one for me and after dinner Birkin came over to my table, but it must be said that he paid scant attention to me and directed all his conversation to my girlfriend. They talked, not about racing but about their mutual friends, the Seth-Smiths. He had a dance with her and returned her safely to my table. She found his stutter very attractive, and even accused me of copying it, which was unfair because I have always had a slight stutter when pressurized. Birkin had always been one of my idols and he continued to be — on the race track, but though I saw quite a lot of him over the

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succeeding years, I never got much closer to him personally. He was always rather distant and not forthcoming to an inquisitive enthusiast. I could do nothing for him and a brash youngster continually asking questions must have been very tiresome. This makes me all the more grateful to people like Barnato, the Dunfees, Campbell, Lord Curzon, Eyston and Sammy Davis, who took so

much trouble to teach me about the sport, at the same time making me feel that I was part of it.

At Bentleys the finished car test shop was one of the most interesting departments and I had some fine runs in 4!/2s and Speed Sixes, but once again I was not allowed to take the wheel. Cars for exhibition at the motor shows at Olympia and on the Continent were of special interest. I very much liked the boat-tailed bodies made by Barker and Park Ward and all the Le Mans replica cars for customers for their own racing or just for the road. Most of these bodies were made by Vanden Plas and on several occasions they were taken for test to Brooklands where I was allowed to act as mechanic. One of my last sessions at the works was in the new machine shop where work was being done on superchargers. At first the ‘blowers’ were only for racing, but later they were required for production cars to comply with Le Mans regulations. In 1929, Lord Curzon’s father, the fourth Earl Howe, died and Francis inherited the title. He extended his motor racing activities and was soon driving his Bugattis and a lovely little 11/2-litre Alfa Romeo in every sort of racing event. The garage behind his London residence, Curzon House, always contained

something exciting and always in his distinctive livery, which was his father’s old horse racing colours — Royal Blue and Silver. His close friendship with Malcolm Campbell flourished and I saw much more of Howe. I saw less of Campbell because he was so involved with his land speed record attempts. I did not see any of those record attempts as it was a very specialized activity and one which was not really my scene. I seldom missed a meeting at Brooklands. Jack Dunfee,

A Speed Six Bentley towing Malcolm Campbell’s Bluebird in the Lord Mayor’s Show.

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particularly with the 2-litre Sunbeam, was an outstanding

performer. In those days there was a band of drivers who were extremely versatile, driving every sort of car. Alistair Miller had an

ever-changing selection of cars in which he competed with great success and he also entered cars for other drivers and brought a number of newcomers into racing. The man who rode with Kaye Don in his Lea-Francis was Dudley Froy. He too became one of the best and most versatile drivers, and he had a first class

engineering ability. A feature of Dudley’s driving was his courage; he would have a go at taming any fierce machine when other drivers considered the car too dangerous. He married Colonel Vickers-Dunfee’s daughter and so had Jack and Clive as brothers-in-law.

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Another versatile driver was Cyril Paul who lived not far away from me, in Finchley. He was also a first class engineer and mechanic, so was in great demand. His favourite make of car was Riley, and he was very good at tuning these cars. He tuned one for a friend of mine, a very nice early Riley Lynx, a special-bodied 11 h.p. sidevalve competition model marketed by Reggie Straker. In another Riley I had my first ride up the Brooklands test hill, when Cyril Paul took it up as a demonstration of its performance. Cyril had a fast run up towards the hill on the old Finishing Straight. This was most unusual because usually the gate to the hill was closed and climbs of the test hill were made from the stationary position. On this occasion, with a flying start, we streamed up the hill and flew into the air before landing. The crash landing was very hairy and we went sideways into a post at the corner of the restaurant. There was no real damage, only a bent wing. Although the whole thing was regarded as a joke, I reckon that Cyril was a bit shaken himself. Afterwards, in the distance, I could see the Riley

owner, Cyril, and an official deep in conversation and nobody was laughing. It was a very untypical mistake of Cyril Paul’s. For me at the time, the most important Brooklands race was the Double-Twelve — like Le Mans but with no night time racing,

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just two consecutive days of dicing. As I knew that there was no chance of my going to Le Mans, this was the next best thing. For the first Double-Twelve, in 1929, I felt that I had almost a vested

interest in one car, our first Big Six. In the works I had done more work on the 6!/2-litre cars than on the 4!/2s and the Six was my favourite model. George Lindfield had carried out some experiments with a special crankshaft damper for our racing Big Six

Dudley Froy at the wheel of a supercharged 4!/2-litre Bentley before setting out on a record attempt at Brooklands.

and I had under my own bench a second version which had been considered. I had seen the first racing Six at the service depot and it had been down to the works a couple of times as well. For the Double-Twelve the car was going to be raced by Woolf Barnato himself and Dr. Benjafield. The company also entered a full team of 41/25, two works cars and two largely similar private cars owned by Humphrey Cook and W.B. Scott. Practice went perfectly, almost too well. All our cars were very fast and there were no problems. On the day, sure enough the Big Six was the fastest car in the race and soon leading on handicap. Then we had unforeseen troubles — the Cook/Clement car ran a big end, and there was a very nasty fire when Birkin’s car came in to refuel. It was a similar situation to that when Campbell had his fire in the TT. There was a backfire from the exhaust pipe. In this instance there was no leak from the fuel tank but the mechanic had spilt a lot of petrol down the front of his overalls. The back fire occurred after switching off just as he was refuelling. He was engulfed in flames but rolled on the ground immediately. It looked very bad indeed and in fact the mechanic was severely burned but very quick action certainly saved his life. The leading Big Six went out with the dynamo coupling broken when Benjafield was driving and none of our cars was quite as fast as expected because the tyres were not lasting well so there were extra pit stops.

As so often happens in motor racing, things were not going as planned. On paper, after practice, it looked as though we would eat it. In fact we finished a close second with Sammy Davis and Sir Ronald Gunter just failing to beat Giulio Ramponi in an Alfa Romeo. The Scotts did well to finish eleventh in their private entry which was not quite as fast as our works cars. The Scott 4!/2 looked very ‘touring’ with the standard fixed windscreen and the long wings which we used to use in the earlier races. After the race I talked to Lord Howe, dirty and tired having had every sort of trouble with his Bugatti. His enthusiasm was such that he never gave up. His car broke down on the Railway Straight and with great difficulty was got back to the pits where he and Callingham worked like beavers to get it going properly and were still doing that when the race ended. The Bentleys were all returned to the service depot the next morning and on my way home I called in to see them. The Big Six was already being pulled down for a complete check over for Le Mans and the Scotts had just left with their car. My next session as an apprentice at Bentleys was in the Demonstration Department of the sales office at the showrooms. This was because I was going to be offered an appointment on the sales side of the Company in due course. I think that must have

CHAPTER pecan)” Maines

Lord Howe with his broken down Type 43 Bugatti on the Railway Straight during the 1929 Double-Twelve at Brooklands.

Three 3-litre models and a

Standard Six in the Bentley showrooms at Pollen House,

Cork Street, London |G BRAt

W.1.

been at the suggestion of Barnato and I was delighted with the prospect. Our showrooms were at Pollen House, Cork Street, just off Bond Street. I reported to the assistant sales manager, Percy Sholl, whom I liked straight away. He had a quiet charm and was most understanding. He told a friend of mine that he reckoned that he would have to control my exuberance and enthusiasm. I suppose he did a bit of that, he certainly reminded me that racing was only a sideline, and that the main business of the company was selling saloon cars, but I do not think I really ever accepted that situation. The great thing for me was that I was going to be taught how to drive all the Bentleys really properly. My instructors were the two demonstration drivers. Joe Foskett had charge of the six-cylinder cars — two Speed Sixes, one a Vanden Plas open sports four-seater and the other a Park Ward sports saloon and a Standard Six with a Thrupp and Maberley limousine body. Bill Williams had charge of the four-cylinder cars, a 4!/2-litre Vanden Plas open sports four seater and an H.J. Mulliner saloon, later supplemented by our first supercharged

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41/2-litre Vanden Plas open sports four seater. My first lessons were in the basement garage under our showrooms, then in the quieter streets of Belgravia and eventually

on the open road. The instruction was wonderful, patient and progressive, and I enjoyed every minute. Slowly I picked up the tricks such as how carefully tyre pressures were checked and. adjusted to suit the likely tastes of potential customers. Joe Foskett with ginger hair and steel rimmed glasses was very humorous and extrovert. He told me that he had learned much from Frank Clement when he had been at the service depot. Of the two demonstration drivers he was the more careful and cautious on the road. Bill Williams, tall, dark and pale, much quieter and more

Be i. Woolf Barnato Ueiier the Le Mans Speed

reserved, proved to be the more exciting driver. I was with him one day when he was driving the open 4!/2 in Regents Park. There was a twenty mile an hour limit and we spotted a speed trap. Bill decided to do a second lap of the park and he approached the trap at high speed and pulled up to a standstill in the middle, well before the second point in the trap, no doubt to the disappointment of the police who must have thought they were going to make a good catch. Great fun we thought, so Bill made another attempt at 20 €VED higher speed and again came to a slithering stop before he

Six, winning Le Mans in 1929.

could be timed. We got out of the car and pretended to make

Right. A #|>-litre Vanden Plas Wet veater which retailed

at £1,350. Never seen today,

adjustments under the bonnet, hardly concealing our mirth. Then a POlice sergeant cycled up from the end of the trap and warned Bill that if he did it once more he would be reported and summonsed. I

aluminium discs covering the

can’t remember exactly what he said he would be summonsed for,

wirespecified wheels —were sometimes usually at the request of chauffeurs!)

ut it soundedé sufficiently serious eoga , : for Bill to apologize for the jape,

and we certainly didn’t try it again.

SEER EEE TET E

My favourite demonstration car was the open Speed Six.

This car had a special extra large diameter steering wheel at the suggestion of Lord March who found the steering very heavy in London traffic. I liked that very much. It is strange how fashion changes, in those days large diameter steering wheels were the

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fashion for sports cars, just as small ones are today. Round the corner from us in George Street, Kensington-Moir and Straker, Aston Martin agents, had a tiny little showroom. They could only display one car at a time so we sometimes let them use our big basement. Kensington-Moir had been at Bentleys for many years, he and Reggie Straker were friends of all our staff. In this way I sometimes collected or delivered some beautiful little Astons. I just loved the looks of those cars, but when I first drove them — oh, what a disappointment! By that time I had already driven quite a lot of fast small cars such as Alfa-Romeos and Bugattis and I foolishly expected an Aston to have that sort of bottom end performance. Of course, there was none, the Aston was a different sort of animal and I was yet to appreciate its charm. Bentley had a contract with Shell for racing and I saw a good deal of their representatives, Leslie Callingham and Harold Parker, as they were both racing drivers in their own right. For the road, Callingham was using a very nice 3-litre Bentley that he had driven in the 1927 six-hour race. Now it was fitted with a very smart fabric coupé body, almost identical to the coupé body fitted on the 2-litre Lagonda. With the Shell connection Callingham was a natural reserve driver for us and was often available for testing work at Brooklands. I think it was through Callingham that Lord Howe was included in the Bentley team at Le Mans in 1929. This was at the time of the development of the supercharged cars from Welwyn.

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An International Aston-Martin in the Lewis Speed Trials with the fine Bugattis in the

foreground and an Armstrong Siddeley Saloon by the start line.

During testing at Brooklands there was a lot of trouble, and I sat at the back of the pits watching Birkin getting very cross. His car was the prototype blower machine which had a rather ugly body. It had a very long bonnet which could not be opened until the main windscreen was erected. Since the car was coming into the pits every two or three laps for new plugs there was the extra drama of erecting and folding the windscreen every time. Birkin was in favour of removing the windscreen altogether, but was told

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that since it would have to be erected for Le Mans there was no point in removing it for practice at Brooklands. The car was very fast but every time Birkin lifted off, which even he had to do for the unbanked Vickers turn, he oiled a plug or two. They tried every sort of KLG and Lodge plug, and even an unknown American plug which we were told had been used very successfully by Brisson on the Stutz at Le Mans. After trying everything, Birkin found that he could keep the plugs clean only by keeping the throttle partly open all the time. He could do this by using half throttle for the whole lap thus avoiding lifting off at the Vickers turn. This produced a much slower lap time and would be useless for Le Mans with its many slow corners, so the blower cars were scratched.

A pit stop for Birkin’s Bentley in the TT. The screen had to be erected before the bonnet could be opened. Kensington Moir in pit number 73 is leaning over towards the car.

As replacements two old unblown 4!/2s were entered. Bernard Rubin was to have driven one of the blower cars with Birkin, but Birkin switched to the Big Six with Barnato, and Leslie

Callingham suggested that Lord Howe might join Rubin in a replacement unblown 4!/2. I never saw Howe drive the Bentley at Le Mans but at Brooklands he was as fast as any of the 4!/2 team

drivers. At Le Mans his fastest practice time was better than any of theirs and in the race itself he led all the Bentleys except the Big Six until his car had magneto trouble. The special Le Mans regulations which stipulated that only the drivers could work on the cars meant that Howe had the job of changing the magneto in the pits. This set him a difficult task. He was not familiar with the model, it was not his own team, and the French crowds were impatient to see the car back in the race. He did jolly well considering all things and he got it going again only

to break down finally on the other side of the course, so that car had to be retired, but the Big Six driven by Barnato and Birkin won our fourth Le Mans. We were getting very good at Le Mans and this was the third time in succession that we had won the event outright. Our other 4!/2s finished second, third and fourth, with the two leading Bentleys taking first and second places in the Rudge-Whitworth Cup as well. This was the only time Lord Howe

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ceased

drove in the Bentley team. Although he said it was good experience and that he enjoyed it, I felt that it was not quite his style, and that he was best with his own équipe. For the 1929 Six-hour race at Brooklands I was roped in as a spotter for the lap chart: something I was quite good at because I knew all the cars. It was very satisfying being part of the team, particularly pleasing on this occasion as Barnato and Jack Dunfee were the drivers and the Big Six was the winning machine. It was about this time that this car, our original racing Big Six, came to be known as ‘Old No. 1’. It had carried that number on its first two events.

3 cés

About this time B.B. Scott, always known as ‘Bummer’, started racing the other 1!/2-litre Delage earlier acquired from Campbell. It was now painted black but though never presented as well as Campbell’s car, it was nearly as fast on the outer circuit. At the beginning of the 1930 season the BARC instituted their Mountain Races. They were a great success and were mostly ten lap handicaps. The circuit was as for the JCC Junior Grand Prix using the old finishing straight and the Members Banking clockwise but without any chicanes. I much preferred these races to any on the outer circuit because the hairpin at the Fork and the top bend under the Members Bridge made it much more a road race. Anyway, it was the cornering that I really loved, not the sheer speed that was only obtained on the full outer circuit. My perch on the Members Bridge was ideal for watching Mountain Races, though I sometimes spectated at the Fork to make a change. Before the first Mountain Race, Malcolm Campbell rode with Lord Howe in Howe’s Type 43 Bugatti, teaching him the best way round this very tricky circuit. Campbell knew it well because he had previously won that JCC Junior Grand Prix. On the first Mountain Race Lord Howe used exactly the same technique as Campbell and scored a fine victory establishing the record for the course. The second Mountain event was for sports cars only and a very cheerful young enthusiast called Penn Hughes won in a Frazer Nash. I had just met him with H.J. Aldington and Tom Wisdom’s wife who was known as ‘Bill’. Both Tom and Bill Wisdom were very versatile drivers, competing in races, hillclimbs and rallies in a wide variety of cars. At that time Tom Wisdom was the motoring correspondent of the Daily Herald: the only daily newspaper that really covered motor racing events. Another important race for us (Bentley) was the Irish Grand Prix at Phoenix Park in Dublin, (in those days anything was a Grand Prix!) Actually it was two races, one for under |!/2-litre cars and the other one for the big cars. The first day’s racing was very exciting, with small high revving supercharged cars fighting like mad. Sammy Davis led the Lea-Francis team and was battling with the Alfa-Romeos. Jack Dunfee was driving one of the Brooklands Rileys, but he didn’t like it very much. This was a disappointment to me because I thought the Riley was much more attractive than the Salmson of the same category that Jack raced at Brooklands. He said that the Riley wasn’t fast enough and in the race he spun it and crashed into another of the Rileys in the same team. Ivanowski

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won in a blown Alfa-Romeo and Sammy was second in the ‘Leaf’ (Lea-Francis), a really exciting dice with all the leading cars closely bunched and sliding about. Sammy was as happy as a sandboy. In contrast, our race on the next day was far less exciting. The bigger cars were much steadier. Once again, our best hope was the Big Six, but this time Glen Kidston lost it, hit a tree and damaged a wheel. This lost a bit of time and once again victory went to an Alfa-Romeo, again driven by Ivanowski. Malcolm Campbell practised a 3-litre Sunbeam but it wasn’t very fast. I thought he was going to scratch but he did start and did a few laps before retiring. I guess he collected starting money, which was fairly typical! Jack Field from Southport was running a Type-43 Bugatti. That car suffered a fuel leak similar to the one Campbell had experienced with the same model during the previous year’s T.T.

When Field’s car caught fire it looked for a moment as if it also would be burnt out like Campbell’s car, but very quick action on the part of one of the Marshals, who already had a fire extinguisher in his hand, put out the blaze before there was much damage. For this race our works cars were supplemented by the

One of our demonstration cars, a Speed Six with special Vanden Plas body, copied from one specially produced for Birkin.

supercharged 4!/2s from Welwyn entered by the Hon. Dorothy Paget. Some of my friends from the works at Cricklewood had joined this blower team. I felt there was some confusion and less cohesion in this enlarged Bentley set-up, but Sammy Davis came over and helped with pit control, easing the situation. He always had a light-hearted humorous attitude when things got fraught. None of the supercharged cars was absolutely right and Tim Birkin was obviously worried, though he drove well and finished third.

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5 The second Ards Tourist Trophy was one of the best in the series. It was thought that the supercharged 4!/2-litre Bentleys might be our best bet because once again the 6!/2-litre cars seemed to be too heavily handicapped. Barnato himself visited Belfast earlier in the year, drove round the circuit and confirmed that it was unsuitable for our Big Sixes and he said that he himself would not be driving. Remembering how much I had enjoyed being with Humphrey Cook in the 1928 race, I hoped I would be joining him

again. However, I learned that he was not running. He had been so disappointed when his car blew up at Phoenix Park that he decided that he would give up racing with the Bentley. He sold his racing Bentley to Jack Barclay and bought a touring version for the road. This was rather typical of Humphrey because if anything went wrong he became very easily downhearted. There was a full team of the blower cars plus Glen Kidston in our Big Six, despite Barnato’s confirmation that the circuit and handicap would be against that car. I did not know any of our drivers very well and W.O. was very much in evidence, in fact actually riding with Tim Birkin, so as I had nothing particular to do I thought I might be in the way. I did not go into the Bentley pits but spent most of my time with Sammy Davis and Brian Lewis in the Riley team. The Riley team was a very happy set-up with a lot of joking, and everyone seeming to enjoy themselves. The cars were the short-tailed models developed by Thompson and Taylor. The cock-pits had higher sides and no doors and Sammy said that they were even lighter, and handled even better than the Coventry models. Leslie Callingham and Lord Howe came with the Type-43 Bugatti and a 1!/2-litre Alfa-Romeo, I had a ride back to the town

from the circuit with Leslie in the Alfa. He said that he hoped that he would be able to drive this car, which he preferred to the Bugatti, in the race. Howe tried both cars and, as usual, chose to

Lag

drive the Bugatti. I had driven both cars, but only slowly on the road, and I much preferred the Alfa, as I found the gears in the Bugatti very difficult. Discussing this with Howe afterwards I learned that he preferred the Bugatti because, after all, it was the

car that brought him into the sport. In the race our cars went quite well but were not really in the hunt. Once again, Glen Kidston shunted the Big Six: our mechanics said he was the wildest driver ever, and few liked riding with him. I was surprised that he so often drove in our team but Barnato was a very close friend of his and seemed to trust him, even sharing a car with him at Le Mans. To my great joy Sammy Davis had a fine race, winning his class. But the man of the race was the overall winner, Rudi Caracciola. There was a lot of rain during the race and Caracciola in the great white Mercedes was

absolutely magnificent. He scarcely slowed for the rain and never put a foot wrong. He dominated the race right from the start, which seemed to prove that Barnato’s assessment of the course and handicap as being impossible for the big cars was wrong! Callingham had a good ride in the Alfa-Romeo, but Howe

ay MH soon broke down in his Bugatti, after which he spent a lot of time in the Mercedes pit. He was so impressed with Caracciola’s performance that immediately after the race he made a substantial offer for that car. The offer was accepted and the car was in his hands within a week. Still in its German white paint and in Tourist Trophy trim he drove it at Shelsley Walsh and won his class. After that it was repainted in his own livery to join his 36-220 boat-tailed Mercedes at His Lordship’s country house at Penn in

Buckinghamshire — two magnificent Mercedes in excellent hands.

One of the Mercedes being off-loaded at Belfast docks.

Thistlethwaite, Caracciola and Merz with their Mercedes.

Kaye Don and his mechanic Dudley Froy with their Lea Francis.

CHAPTER

Right. Local driver R.S.Outlaw practising with his Brooklands Riley. Note the sidecar tactics of the mechanic. Below, left. Lining up for the scrutineers are Jack Bezzant (Aston-Martin), Giulio

Ramponi’s great friend and mentor, Marinoni (Alfa-Romeo)

and Green (Lea Francis).

Below, right. Jack Bezzant’s accident at Quarry Corner. Bottom. Maconochie runs out

of road!

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Above, left. The original works

4!|2-litre Bentley entered by the Hon Richard Norton, being refuelled by its driver Major Hay. The Bentley works mechanic, Pudiphat, is

behind the driver with Kensington-Moir behind the oil cans.

Above, right. G.E.Caldicutt in a works Austin has a spectacular crash but, with the aid of a long pole, driver and co-driver were able to regain the road and finish in 19th position. The A-Type Fords did quite well, shown in the company of the SARAs.

oie PHARMACEUTICAL

Rubin’s Bentley going round

Campari’s Alfa-Romeo.

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Above, left. Eddie Hall in front of his Arrol Astor while his mechanic makes brake

adjustments.

Frexy Friday pe&

Above, right. S.C.H.Davis

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In 1932 Lord Howe decided to run his Type 51 Bugatti in the Monaco Grand Prix. Chiron had won the previous year’s race in that model and another had been second. In the Type 51, Howe invariably made a good start. Also, he was particularly good on tight corners with that model and this had shown up well round the Mountain Circuit at Brooklands and at Shelsley Walsh. Needless to say, I always hoped that he would drive the Delage, which I always thought he seemed to prefer as it went better for him on the outer circuit and on faster road circuits, but the Type 51 Bugatti was obviously right for him at Monaco.

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Lord Howe with the Type 51 Bugatti at Brooklands.

He approached the RAC and the Monaco organizers querying if it was absolutely mandatory to have the Bugatti in green, and suggesting that as the car was French it might be kept blue, and have a green line on each side. They replied that the car must be green as the entrant was British, but he could have his

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personal blue and silver line on each side; not what he wanted but better than nothing. So the Howe Bugatti was painted in the green he so disliked, but relieved by his smart blue and silver line. Needless to say, he wore his blue overalls and his blue helmet and

he sat in the car under his blue umbrella. In practice out on the circuit he surprised everyone, including himself, by being the fastest for some time. However, Chiron eventually did a ‘fizzer’ in one of the works Type Sls, and then Nuvolari led a string of beautiful Monza Alfa-Romeos, including a white one of German ace Rudi Caracciola. It was noticeable that Howe and his mechanic Thomas were very well organized. The pit was immaculately laid out with tools and equipment. All the practice times were logged and Howe had two pairs of special thick racing gloves so that his hands would not be blistered by the continuous gear changing required in a long race on that circuit. A flask of iced water with a rubber tube attached was fixed in the cockpit so that he could have a drink while racing. Facing the cream of International Grand Prix drivers in the very latest cars, Lord Howe was up amongst the front runners throughout the whole race. Never quite as quick as Chiron, Nuvolari or Caracciola, he nevertheless never let them get too far

Ps

priy poster

Peeiauch in the cole of the times.

away. A British private entrant driving his not-so-very-new car, he was putting up a wonderful show. The Monza Alfa-Romeos were certainly the fastest, their

growl contrasting with the high scream of the Bugattis, which looked a good deal smaller than the Monzas. Two drivers were outstanding though very different: Nuvolari in one of the red works

cars, sat well back from the wheel with outstretched arms twirling madly on the corners, with the car seldom straight. His long thin face and jutting chin contrasted strongly with the driver of the other fastest Monza, Caracciola. Rudi’s round chubby face was quite immobile, while ‘Nuvolari’ was mouthing words — sometimes grinning and sometimes scowling. Rudi sat close to the wheel and his technique was the complete reverse of Nuvolari; he used the minimum

steering wheel movement,

and took each corner in one

single steady arc. Since they followed one another for most of the race, the difference between them was most noticeable. It

highlighted and accentuated their nationalities. Nuvolari was a very popular winner, with Caracciola second. Lord Howe drove a perfect race, one of his best. He was a magnificent fourth beating many Continental aces. It was one of those super races where everything falls into place: perfect team-work, good and promising practice, no mechanical problems, a good start in the race, the driver happy, relaxed and obviously on form, and a result much better than expected. Though Howe was pretty exhausted after such a gruelling race, he never lost his concentration, and his last laps were almost as fast as the earlier ones. After Howe’s successful Monaco

Grand Prix, Thomas brought

the Type 51 Bugatti back home for Shelsley Walsh. checking it over it only needed a new set of Dunlop meeting was to be very much a Bugatti affair. Jean son, came over with the experimental 4-wheel drive

Apart from tyres. This Bugatti, Ettore’s Bugatti in an

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OQ attempt to capture Stuck’s record. Jean brought a girlfriend in a black and red Type 55 and they stayed at Penn House with Lord Howe and his family. They were joined for lunch on the day before practice by Lord Brecknock who was using a Speed 20 Alvis on loan from the Alvis Company. He was sampling the opposition as

Jean Bugatti with his girlfriend and eed Re ae Psat pyc phe

ene |

Pas cad hie dalthier Georgiana in the 38/250 Mercedes, and his son Richard

ne

with Lord Brecknock.

he was a Director of Talbots. Two mechanics from Molsheim brought the 4-wheel drive Bugatti in a van; unfortunately, I was not at practice so I never saw its reportedly fabulous first run, or its accident at Kennel Bend on its second run. It has been said that

only Leslie Wilson of the MAC and the appointed time keeper knew Jean Bugatti’s time, but I believe that Jean himself and Lord Howe also knew, but agreed to keep quiet. In later years I raised

this matter with Lord Howe but when I did so he merely changed

the subject! On race day I saw Lord Howe achieve one of his great victories, fastest time of the day against the cream of Hill Climbers. I watched one of his starts and his fastest climb from the crossing; he drove with tremendous dash and precision. Few people seem to remember that he was an FTD man at Shelsley. Noel Carr and Jack Lemon Burton both excelled with their Bugattis and Jean Bugatti himself was very fast, but rather wild in the Type 55. I stood with his girlfriend watching the start, she asked me many questions but she was so excited and spoke so

quickly that my school-French was quite useless. What made the day for me was riding back down the hill with Lord Howe in the Mercedes after his morning practice run — my first ride at Shelsley, albeit in the wrong direction. I would have liked to have seen his Le Mans victory with Tim Birkin the previous year, so I planned to be at Le Mans in 1932 when they would be driving a new Alfa, but, as it turned out, could not manage it.

wy MULL ST)

Lord Howe Type 51, Monaco.

Howe’s next Continental Grand Prix was at Rheims. He was confident that his big Type 54 4.9-litre Bugatti would be the right car for such a fast circuit with long straights. He was co-driving with Hugh Hamilton because he had already found that the 4.9 was much harder work than the Type 51. This time things were not so good; neither Howe nor ‘Hammy’ were fast in practice, adjustments to tyre pressures, shock absorbers and other things making no appreciable difference. Howe wished he had brought his Type 51, seeing that Chiron was so fast in his. In the race the Howe/Hamilton Bugatti never got amongst the leaders and neither driver looked comfortable. I thought it was odd that the 4.9 Bugatti which was so good on the outer circuit at Brooklands was so unsuccessful at Rheims.

When I had been at Bentleys I had become involved with a lot of filming because Bentleys often loaned cars to film companies for their productions. I lived close to the studios at Elstree and had met some of the film executives. Nothing in connection with film work was ever straightforward. They usually wanted a car at very short notice at some absurd hour, and often, after we had been to great

trouble and expense, nothing came of it; the weather was wrong, or the story line was changed, and even if our car was eventually filmed I had spent many days waiting on location. However, that is film business and despite the wastage of time and seemingly useless extravagence, I found it fascinating and enjoyable. The fact that some of the actors and actresses had difficulty with the Bentley gearbox led to some drives for me in the films. I enjoyed this very much, particularly as I was allowed to keep the extra money paid to me by the film companies. Sometimes Brooklands was the location decided upon for a

motor racing shot in a film. This was right up my street and provided me with a great deal of fun. The average director’s idea of a motor race was very wide of the mark, fights in the Paddock and

Whew

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4 ag

even some gun play in the cockpit being usual for a film with a motor racing background. All this caused much merriment in our little world of ‘the right crowd and no crowding’. Now, with the collapse of the Bentley Company, I continued to provide sports and racing cars to the studio, and was appointed motor racing consultant to Gainsborough films. As Gainsborough only produced a handful of films requiring sports or racing cars, they loaned me to other studios for that work and the whole situation proved quite lucrative and amusing as well. Gainsborough was being taken over by the big Gaumont Corporation so I was loaned to Gaumont for their production of a musical called Car of Dreams. The car was a Rolls-Royce coupé and one of the stars was John Mills, now Sir John Mills and a leading straight actor. In those days he was a song-and-dance man and he played the part of the singing chauffeur. Other stars in Car of Dreams were Greta Moisham, Robertson Hare and Mark Lester. I had already met ‘Bunny’ Hare with Ralph Lynn and Tom Walls when they made some films of the Aldwych farces, and Mark Lester had a fine Speed 20 Alvis in which he and I had a drive at Brooklands. Although the plot had nothing to do with motor racing, the director decided that it would add to the interest if the Rolls-Royce coupé could be driven at Brooklands with a lot of sports cars. He told me that he wanted the theme song Goodbye Trouble to be featured in a Brooklands setting. His scheme was that occupants of sports cars should be driving round the track singing the song following John Mills driving and singing in the Rolls-Royce. The entire club membership of the Brooklands Automobile Racing Club was invited to go to Brooklands on a Saturday afternoon when there was no racing and take part in the filming. I warned the director of the film company that, though the members would love the occasion, he might find it difficult to control their enthusiasm. I feared that the title of the theme song, Goodbye Trouble, would be scarcely apt. They should be saying Hello to trouble, not Goodbye. On a glorious June Saturday about 250 members of the BARC, together with their friends and families, descended upon Brooklands. Most were intent on becoming film stars overnight, or anyhow, having a whale of a time. As I was a member of the BARC as well as consultant to the film company, I was heavily involved and was ragged by most of my friends. It was agreed that I would drive with the members and was expected to set a good example. I was using a fine open-touring 3!/2-litre Crested Eagle Alvis, ‘Beano’ came with me and we took our current girlfriends (mine was my ex-fiancée, Kitty). With some difficulty, the director and his assistants marshalled all the cars and crews on the old Finishing Straight opposite the Paddock facing towards the Vickers sheds. Through a megaphone the director gave us instructions. He asked us to drive slowly in formation for a complete lap of the outer circuit and then finish where we started in the same formation. He explained that while we were doing that he would record John Mills and the chorus singing the theme song. He said that in due course we would be able to see ourselves on the film

ay I

Kitty with the crested Eagle Alvis for the film “Car of Dreams”’.

circulating slowly round Brooklands to this tune. The vast majority of those members of the BARC present were not racing drivers, and most had only attended Brooklands as spectators and only a few had ever driven on the track. This was a wonderful opportunity. When the director gave the signal we all

started moving slowly — well, fairly slowly, down the straight. Then, I think, a Frazer-Nash overtook an Aston-Martin, and someone in

a Bentley thought that someone else in a Lagonda was going just a bit faster than he was. By the time we reached the Vickers sheds the big race was really on. In no time it was a mad rush, all bunched together. Slow cars right up the banking could not get down because fast cars were crowding underneath. Daring young men were weaving in and out, all of us enjoying a wicked Grand Prix with no holds barred. Miraculously, there were no accidents and we all completed the lap but not in the same order in which we started. The director had another go at his instructions, explaining that we must drive slowly and not change our positions — but it was no good. As soon as we left the line again the race started in just the same way. We loved it, and again nobody kept station and everyone had a mammoth dice. The third time, the director stood in the back of an open tourer which he used as a pace car. By this time he was getting a bit cross and he commanded that we should follow him with no overtaking. This time we really did try to behave, and it was well beyond the Vickers Sheds and on to the Byfleet Banking before one of the ‘chain gang’ put his foot down and ripped past the pace vehicle. Then, of course, everyone else overtook and the Grand Prix was on again. They tried just once more but it was no good; the temptation was just too great. For the ordinary member of the BARC it was a wonderful day and when it was over the film company gave us a sumptuous tea in the Club house. Gaumont never got the scene they had planned and the sequence at Brooklands was completely cut out. Fairly recently EMI have

CHAPTER Pee

baie Ss

produced an LP of movie star memories featuring John Mills singing that theme song. I wonder if it evokes amusing memories in other members of the old BARC, as it does for me.

From time to time in this book of reminiscences, mostly on motor racing, I write of the ordinary road cars that came my way. The published road tests in the motor journals are fairly readily

available today, and I am sure that the facts and figures were correct but, in the idiom of those days, the reports were very uncritical. Faults were seldom mentioned and it was not done to compare one make with another. Reading those reports today one can only discern faults by noting that some aspect of a car’s performance was omitted. Today we are fortunate that our motoring journalists are able, and indeed have to be able, to compare each model with others from rival makes. It is good to remember that the very first journal to write critically about new cars was one irrevocably tied to motor sport, it’s not really necessary to name the journal. After leaving Bentleys I was closely involved with MGs and I have written about those cars in my book MG Past and Present; however, I feel that there is more to be said about one of those models; the 18-80. This was a very attractive model with some fine attributes, and I believe that it never had the reputation it deserved: not quite in the ‘super-car’ class, perhaps, but nearly. Having driven

the Mark III Tigress at Brooklands with Leslie Callingham, I had a

A A g!

special regard for those 2!/2-litre six-cylinder MGs. Friendships with people in University Motors, the London MG Agents, enabled me to sample all the models. The Mark I Speed Model, with a light and simple fabric open four-seater body, was the most attractive type. One would have thought that the three-speed gearbox would be a great disadvantage, but strangely it did not seem to matter much. Second gear was quite high, and the engine gave plenty of torque low down. The Mark I was very light to handle, responsive and incredibly smooth. It would do about 80mph which was a quite acceptable maximum. Road conditions in Great Britain in the early and mid 1930s made a maximum speed of something between 80 and 90 quite enough. Only a few of the very fast cars had maximums in the 90s. My friend Donald Monro, whose business was in the flower and vegetable market in Covent Garden, let me drive his special 18-80. This had the light narrow Mark I chassis, a four-speed Mark II gearbox, some Mark III modifications, and a pointed tail,

two-seater body by Carbodies on the lines of the MG Midget. This was a fine car with the best of several worlds. What a pity such a car was never marketed. Like the Tigress, the 18-80 MGs were developed at about the time when sales of the little Midget were soaring. Though Cecil Kimber would have liked to have developed the bigger cars, his Chairman, William Morris, was thoroughly commercial and insisted on concentration on the lucrative small car market. MG made many of their own bodies, unlike most manufacturers at the time. Kimber himself masterminded their design and they were very well constructed. The detail finish was way above other cars of the same price, and the 18-80s were always

Lit

ON

Ley

notable for a certain style. I suppose the Mark II really needed another litre or two of engine. A 4-litre Mark II MG would have been splendid. The artist Gordon Crosby, who had a heavier than standard Mark II saloon, told me that it only needed a bigger engine to make that car one of the best in the world. No other alterations were needed because the substantial chassis and four-speed gearbox would have been perfectly satisfactory. Apart from Donald Monro’s special, a rare Mark II metal-panelled speed model was the best 18-80 I ever drove; it only lacked top end performance. At about the time that Bentleys closed down, Alvis produced a follow-up to the successful 12-50. The 1931 and 1932 12-50 and 12-60 models were rather more civilized than the vintage 12-50s but were to the same good basic design. From a competition point of view it was a pity that the 12-60 no longer came within the

The Beetle Back big-port

12-50 Alvis. Right. TK model 12-60 Alvis.

IN 'S |%

11/2-litre class. The 1645cc engine had the same great strength, and was much smoother. We sold several of both types and I drove examples with the very popular Carbodies sports two-seater coachwork, and I also drove one TL with the rare four-seater body. I used a TK sports two-seater for several weeks and took it round the outer circuit at Brooklands. I preferred this model to the 12-50 big-port model with what was known as the beetle-back body. For me, the big port was just a bit too rough, though it had marginally greater performance. The thing about the 12-60 that I liked was its very good mixture of virtues for a road car. The next four-cylinder Alvis was the Firefly. If it had the manual gearbox and the Cross & Ellis open body, it was a fine thoroughbred tourer, but not very fast. The pre-selector made it very sluggish. Since I always had to have favourite cars in each category I found that the 12-60 did not quite fit in any convenient slot. In the baby class I favoured MG against Austin, in the 1100cc class I favoured Riley against Amilcar and Salmson. Aston-Martin fitted in the 1!/2-litre class and the low-chassis Invicta in the big class, because Bentleys had ceased production. Being patriotic, my favourites just had to be British, despite the wonders of Bugatti, Delage, Alfa-Romeo, Maserati and

Mercedes. If I thought that the Monza Alfa-Romeo was the most attractive sports racing car, I wouldn’t admit it; I had to find the nearest British equivalent.

NABH

CHAPTER cy

Seen

Around 3 litres was a very attractive size of car, and the new Speed 20 Alvis appealed to me very strongly because of my experience with the TT model made for Tim Birkin. That model, the first Speed 20, with semi-elliptic springs all round and a constant-mesh gearbox was a real sports car. I drove several production examples, and even in those days it was rather harsh and a bit brutal, which was quite acceptable in a sports/racing car but rather tiring on the road. Charles Follett designed, or at least sketched and influenced the design of some very nice Vanden Plas bodies for it; Cross and Ellis made a very workmanlike four-door sports tourer and Lord March designed a very pretty pointed-tailed two-seater which was built by Mulliners of Northampton, for his Company, Kevill-Davies and March. The greatest number of those SA Speed 20s carried coupé or saloon coachwork and I found them rather disappointing; beautiful

g!

4g|

lines and well made but I think the bodies were too heavy for that flexible chassis. The following year, 1933, saw the introduction of the SB series with a much more substantial chassis, independent front suspension and an absolutely wonderful all-synchromesh gearbox. In fact, I think that this was the first all-synchromesh gearbox ever put in series production. The independent front suspension and long semi-elliptic rear springs allowed a very limited spring movement and the new deep chassis frame was very rigid. This gave the car a nice solid vintage feel, with none of the wallowing on corners which was prevalent on most of the American cars of that period and the softer sprung

LAA

wey MLL A

One of the most attractive

Speed 20 Alvis Saloons — Charles Follett with his Vanden Plas two-door saloon.

British cars as well. Most secondary roads were full of pot holes and had to be taken slowly. The Speed 20 Alvis, despite the IFS and long rear springs was no better in that respect than its rivals with normal suspension, such as the Talbot, Lagonda and the later Derby-built Bentleys. I had considerable experience with a rather rare Alvis model, the Crested Eagle open tourer (the car I drove in the film Car of Dreams). Most Crested Eagles were saloons or even limousines, but this was a tourer with the alternative pre-selector gearbox. I liked the ‘help yourself gearbox despite the fact that the notches indicating the gear positions on the selector quadrant were rather indefinite. This sometimes caused one to miss a gear. In retrospect I wonder why I enjoyed that car so much. It wasn’t really a sports car and one certainly could not chuck it about. It was only a fast tourer and like other big cars of that time one had to decide upon a line for a corner and stick to it. In that way it could be cornered quite quickly. There was a degree of oversteer — though the term had not been invented. The brakes, with a fine servo motor as fitted to the Speed 25, were excellent, progressive and powerful. The Speed 25 and the 4.3 were logical developments of the later Speed 20s. They tended to have the same faults to a lesser degree in that most of the closed bodies were too heavy, but the light open models were magnificent. From a competition point of view the engine power peaked rather early, but on the road this constituted an advantage. The 4.3 was really fast with a genuine maximum of over 100, but attempts to increase the bhp by raising the compression ratio only slightly increased the performance. George Hartwell raced a 4.3 at Brooklands. Despite its weight, which was just over 30 cwt. after removing a lot of extras and trim, it accelerated well up to 90 but was much slower to reach its maximum of 110. I talked to Charles Follett and to his engineer Dick Oats about a really light body which I had drawn, but they said that to produce worthwhile extra performance the chassis would have to be lightened and of course that was out of the question. Nearly all my Alvis experience was through Charles Follett who lived close to my home. He was a leading personality in the JCC and often acted as an official for the BARC when he was not racing himself. I drove most of his fast Alvis cars. So that his racing could materially influence his Alvis sales, he always insisted that his Speed 20s had production bodies. We used to say in the thirties: “Alvis are all too heavy and substantial’’.

LZ IAL

I believe that it was a reasonable criticism, but none could doubt

the quality of Alvis engineering. Driving the cars on the road and at Brooklands always gave a strong impression of solidity and engineering excellence. Their all-synchromesh gearbox which was used in nearly every model, added to this good impression. Handling was always positive, firm rather than heavy but certainly not light. Just as Charles Follett influenced me in favour of Alvis, Georges Roesch influenced me in respect of Talbots. Before I really got to know him, I liked the 14/45 model, particularly the wide two-seater, but it was the 90 that won me over. It was so individual,

H OR

CHAPTER pacar

Ait

so different with its tall radiator and that simple innocent looking engine, taking so little space under the bonnet. Also, I admired the way that Talbots started completely silently with their unique dynamotor. Strangely, the Roesch Talbots had attributes that seemed to be at complete variance with my taste. Normally I liked low squat cars with exciting looking engines filling their bonnets, yet I found something curiously attractive in the high Talbots with their unobtrusive little engines. As one would expect, their handling, too, was entirely

different. In any other car, springiness in the steering would be dreadful, but in a Talbot there was an unique springiness that felt absolutely right. There was no loss of motion, the feel was right with perfect balance. All the Roesch Talbots — saloons, tourers and the racing versions — had a strange turbine-like smoothness. The exhaust was always quiet and the engine noise was a hum rather like a sewing machine. The racing versions were just the same but the hum was harder. The standard Talbot bodies were made at the Darracq Works at Acton, later occupied by Napiers. I often visited the works because it was next door to the well known car photographers, Charles K. Bouwers, whom I used a great deal. The bodies were particularly well made, substantial and of traditional construction but not heavy. One model, a close-coupled four light sports saloon was specially designed for Noel Rees. This model was later standardized on both the 75 and 105 models. I used one of

heal eh

The very attractive 105 Talbot sports saloon. This body was also fitted on the 75 chassis.

those 75s for some time, and I consider that in its day it was one of the best saloons on the market. Predictably, car enthusiasts either loved them or were not interested at all. It was said that they were difficult to work on, but I do not think that this was so. They were just different and one needed the special know-how. In most respects they were not inaccessible. Though I very much liked all the 90s and early 105s with plain gearboxes, it was from 1934 and the production of the Fox and Nicholl Alpine Team cars that I really fell in love with Talbots.

LL

Dr. Roth’s 105 Alpine Talbot

on the day it was delivered.

‘The first great one that I drove was built for Dr E.J. Roth. John

B®+h was a Harley Street radiologist and a friend of Raymond

Mays. He had previously owned and raced a 90, and his new Alpine Type 105 was an absolute charmer; almost, but not exactly, like the three Alpine team cars BGH 21, 22 and 23. John’s car, AYL 2, was a road car with wings and lamps etc. but had no large windscreen or hood. It was finished in Talbot’s apple green with black wings and upholstery. I only drove it on the road and never

tested it at Brooklands, though I would love to have done so. Roth raced it on the Mountain Circuit at Brooklands where it performed

John Roth in the 105 Alpine Talbot at Brooklands.

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very well indeed. For these events it ran without road equipment. AYL 2 was remarkably smooth, flexible and silent. Its great attribute was the pre-selector gearbox, as fitted to the Alpine team cars and the normal production vehicles of that time. The car had a great performance, and the driving position was typically Talbot, quite unlike anything else. The steering wheel and bonnet were high but the driver sat quite low and yet had good visibility with the cockpit exceptionally roomy and comfortable in comparison with other competition cars. | The acceleration and power delivery was smooth, with no jerks and no bumps, and no harsh noise, only that turbine-like hard hum. I can think of no other car which had less roll on corners, despite its height and comparatively soft springing. The Talbot was softer, yet firmer, than the contemporary independently front sprung Alvis. The Roth car and the Alpine Team cars had this quite exceptional road holding and in my opinion they could outcorner all of their rivals. I drove most of the Alpine type Talbots, including one of Talbot’s special demonstration cars, AXK 800, which was lighter than the others and had high sides with no cut-away on the driver’s side. One of the nicest of the Alpine type cars was owned by W. Gilbert. His car, AYL 7, was a more touring version but he also drove it in several events at Brooklands. Without doubt, the fastest

and most successful car in that series was BGH 23 which Mike

A A o!

The works special Talbot 105 and BGH 33 with J.E.Scott and Gunner Poppe.

Couper drove in many events. It was further developed over the years with a 110 engine, but I only drove it with the 105 engine. Riding with Mike in practice on the outer circuit convinced me once again that I could never drive a fast car on the outer circuit at Brooklands, it needed judgement and courage beyond my ability. Most of my earlier Brooklands drives with a Talbot had been in an earlier 95 with a manual box and a Vanden Plas body. ALH 399 was owned by Sir Thomas Bazely and was almost identical to the 1932 Alpine Team cars. I drove this car round the Mountain at Brooklands and on the road for a considerable distance. After a session with the car when I handed it over to Sir Thomas, he raised an eyebrow and remarked that there seemed to have been rather a lot of tyre wear!

1/470

LA A LLIL LMA

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Gilbert’s

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105 Talbot with Alpine-type tail.

One of the 1934 Talbot Alpine Team 105s. At the wheel ‘Bill’ Wisdom; back to the camera,

hands on hips and wearing a cap is Tommy Wisdom.

Below. The author at the wheel

of Sir Thomas Bazeley’s Talbot 95. Below, right. Wearing out the tyres!

CHAPTER an

ina,

The 1933 Talbot 95 Alpine

Trial Team. The Hon Brian Lewis, Tim Rose-Richards and Norman Garrad.

A A A!

The pre-1932 2-litre Lagonda Speed models were very much

; 5 Grete ; ‘0 the vintage Bentley tradition; they were lovely cars, faultless in design and workmanship but not very fast. Their classic 2-litre twin high camshaft engines had to work fairly hard to propel the full

four-seater cars. They did not disappoint because one did not expect flashy acceleration. The right hand gate gear change was pleasantly light, and the wrong way round like a Riley — over to the left going up. Though I demonstrated several Lagondas and we sold a few used models, I don’t remember selling a new one. The Lagonda showrooms were in Albemarle Street next door to Invictas and I was an Invicta enthusiast. I think that my enthusiasm for Invictas and Talbots mitigated against Lagondas, my judgement being incorrectly biased towards cars that could be chucked about. The Lagondas produced between 1931 and 1934 were splendid machines and all with a fine performance for their engine size, but at their best on long runs on the open road. Though I never rode in it, I believe that Raymond Mays’ 3 litre saloon was a splendid touring car. Some later two-litres with six-cylinder engines, known as the 16/80s, could be obtained with an ENV pre-selector gearbox. I drove examples with that box and with the normal sliding pinion gearbox. Somehow, the pre-selector gearbox did not suit that Lagonda, despite the fact that gear changing was actuated by a lovely right hand lever looking like that used with the manual gearbox, but it did not feel right. I think the 16/80 was a bit heavy to start with, and the pre-selector gearbox accentuated the fact. The best Lagonda was the 4!/2. My first ride in one was in a works demonstrator after the Olympia Show in October 1933. Only just out of town to Weybridge, but not at the track. It felt like an updated Bentley, obviously a Le Mans sort of car, and indeed it proved to be just that. Malcolm Campbell soon had one and I was able to ride with him, but I never took the wheel myself. Campbell

TTT

Sit pT

The TT-type 4!|2 Lagonda.

was very enthusiastic about his, he told me that it had the smoothness and lightness that he found lacking in the Speed Six Bentley. This was rather unfair because there was a three or four year advantage for the Lagonda. Campbell always loved his Rolls-Royce cars and was apt to compare them with vintage

Bentleys. Perhaps the 4!/2-litre Lagonda had a little of R-R lightness in comparison with the Bentley brutality.

I had two good drives down to the South Coast in 4!/2-litre Lagondas, both open cars. The first one was a 1934 model which I took round Brooklands as well. That car came into its own at about 60mph, when it was as steady as a rock. It liked the outer circuit at Brooklands, went round to nearly 100 on the speedometer on the Railway Straight and was showing something between 80 and 90 elsewhere. The other 4!/2 was the rare Rapide model with outside exhausts and a pointed tail. It should have been faster and more exciting than the first one, but was not. Perhaps it had done a greater mileage and wasn’t in such good fettle. I never took to it, one seemed to sit too high and this particular car was much heavier to handle. I wonder, did that Rapide have higher geared steering? On the open road it didn’t seem to have any more performance. Sometime later, I had the use of an Abbott-bodied 4!/2 called a TT model, and I liked this much better. I am sure it was faster, though I think it was on the normal chassis rather than that of the Rapide. Amongst all enthusiasts there were many discussions about Lagondas and their rivals. These always ended with me extolling my favourite low-chassis Invicta, but my much more knowledgeable friends seldom agreed with me. This car was often described as the ‘100mph model’. a misnomer really because the production model could only just do the ton under very favourable circumstances. It was its vivid acceleration right through the range and its high cornering speed that appealed to me so much. Too much was made of Sammy Davis’s accident in that model. He was quick to accept the blame,

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whilst admitting that all such cars with a very low centre of gravity needed sharp reactions as they slid with little warning. Noel Macklin was so oo for Sammy about that accident that he gave him a present of a 1'/2-litre Invicta saloon. I travelled in that car

many times and even drove it myself, it had a very good chassis with an excellent four-door saloon body but really needed a better engine. The six cylinder Blackburn unit just did not have enough steam and always seemed to be working too hard. Sammy and I tried a supercharged version: it had the extra performance but again it was working too hard for that sort of touring saloon. I do not think that the low-chassis 4!/2-litre Invicta could be compared with any other similar British car. Its rivals were all bigger full four-seaters whereas the Invicta was only what we now

calla 2 + 2. In a way the Invicta was a British equivalent of the 500K and 540K Mercedes. In a similar way none of those Mercedes or SS models ever aroused great enthusiasm, or even universal

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The prototype SS90 photographed at Brooklands by the author after a drive in that car with the Hon Brian Lewis.

acceptance from the right crowd at Brooklands. This certainly applied to the Invicta, it looked almost too good. How dare it be so

rakish, so low, with its long bonnet so beautifully riveted and containing such a classic-looking engine, without ever having been a front runner at Le Mans, the TT or the Mille Miglia? Donald Healey won the Monte Carlo Rally in one and Raymond Mays did wonders at Shelsley Walsh and round the Mountain at Brooklands. Still, it was never absolutely the right car for the right crowd. I wonder, was it those outside exhausts? Anyhow, I simply loved the model, for its handling, its great performance and, of course, its

appearance. I am the first to admit that appearance has always been too important to me, whether it’s of a car, a girl, a boat or even a house. With cars and boats it is said that if it looks right, it probably is right. I believe that is correct in most instances for these two matters, and perhaps in others, too. So, for me, in the early

FF LH TZ Ta

The Carbodies 4!|2-litre Invicta.

thirties, the Carbodies open sports four-seater low chassis Invicta was the best car in the world. Now we come to the Derby Bentley, but I have covered that model pretty thoroughly in my book Bentley Past and Present. However, I feel it is interesting to compare it with its rivals — Talbot, Alvis and Lagonda. Vanden Plas produced almost identical open sports four-seater bodies for Bentley, Alvis and Talbot. In fact they also produced a few Lagondas with that body, but most Lagondas used their own bodies. I drove all those models when they were new so I should be able to compare them. To make a fair comparison we should be concerned with

three Bentleys, the 31/2, 41/4 and 4!/4 overdrive, the Alvis IFS models Speed 20, 25 and 4.3; Talbot 95 and 105; and Lagonda 4l/2, Since we are not considering racing I do not think that the

actual figures of maximum speeds etc. matter very much. They all had adequate performance for the roads of England. The Bentley was better built and better finished than the others. This was R-R Derby Engineering. All the controls worked with R-R precision. One adjective sums up the Derby Bentley, particularly the open models, it was lithe. It never seemed as strong as the others, but because of the excellence of the engineering, it

proved to be every bit as strong. On the limit cornering and road holding were probably as good as the others, but somehow or other one didn’t use these cars quite as hard. Something to do with the R-R image, maybe; despite the flying B emblem, one was more of a gentleman driving the Derby Bentley. Just as in the same manner, one became a cad driving the low chassis Invicta. Though I honestly believed that the Bentley was the best, I personally enjoyed driving the others more. The Lagonda was a real long distance car, a Le Mans model, just that much heavier to handle. With Lagonda’s own body it had a special distinctive appearance.

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CHAPTER

A 3!/2-litre ‘Derby’ Bentley at Brooklands. This one, a very light and simple two-seater.

Sammy Davis, with curly pipe, talking to Sir Malcolm

Campbell who is in his 4!|4 Derby Bentley outside the

Clubhouse at Brooklands.

I personally liked the lowness of the Alvis and did not mind its heaviness. A short drive in a beautiful Vanden Plas 4.3 that was driven in the RAC Rally by one of our best lady drivers, Dorothy Stanley-Turner, had me raving about the model. I guess that I was much influenced by the fact that Dorothy was madly attractive as well. In truth, my personal favourite of Bentley, Lagonda, Alvis and Talbot at that time was the 105 Talbot. I still think that the Bentley was probably the best, but at that time I was having an affair with Talbots. The affair reached its climax in 1934 with John Roth’s Alpine Type 105, and died with the 1936 Humber gearbox models.

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Roland Hebeler’s madly attractive ‘90’, rebuilt from the Fox and Nicholl white single-seater.

When Fox and Nicholl finished their white single-seater Talbot 90, Roland Hebeler rebuilt it into one of the most attractive

sports cars ever made. The Hebeler Talbot looked rather like a cross between a TT Alfa-Romeo and a Le Mans Aston-Martin. Entirely unlike any other Talbot, it was a very low and squat affair. Like everyone else I completely fell for that lovely car. Roland did not race it, it was his everyday transport, and as he attended many races one often saw it in the Paddock at Brooklands and at other events where it was always the centre of admiration. With its low centre of gravity and considerable reduction of weight and frontal area it had a great performance, an easy 100mph on the road. I drove it several times, and I list this car as one of the six best

looking sports cars ever. In the 1932 ‘500’ I was glad not to have seen the accident that killed Clive Dunfec. I saw the pit stop and then went to watch from the side of the Byfleet Banking. When the big Bentley disappeared, I merely thought it had retired. When I returned to the pits area, someone stopped me and told me the dreadful news. This was the first motor racing tragedy involving someone whom I knew personally. My heart went out to Jane Baxter; they had been married for so little time and I had great admiration for her and Clive. Sometime later, Sammy Davis and I talked together about

such things. As the man who had helped and encouraged Clive in his racing, Sammy felt deeply about the whole thing, it hit him very hard. Anyone closely involved with a relatively dangerous sport has to develop a philosophy to cope with such things. Motor racing is not forced upon one, one does it knowingly, aware that the thrill

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Clive Dunfee at the wheel of the Barnato 8-litre in which he was killed. Checking the tyres is Eric Thompson of Dunlop who was also an excellent photographer; some of his work is in this book. Standing and wearing a cloth cap is Jack Dunfee and kneeling is Norman Freeman, the Racing Manager of Dunlop.

Jane Baxter and Clive Dunfee shortly after they became

engaged.

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: Na AM ‘i tad i HiMany

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and excitement and the sense of achievement are only one side of the coin. Over the years I have known many tragedies, yet love of the sport remains paramount. During a race, in the pits, the time

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keeper knows just when his driver is due. If he is going well the ‘time keeper looks up the road, expecting to see his car rounding the distant corner. The seconds tick by and other cars go past. For a few moments there is not too much anxiety. Back markers may be holding him back, but still there is no sign of him. Nobody says

anything but there is a tense atmosphere; soon everyone in the pits knows that he is overdue. More cars go by. Then, perhaps there is reassuring news, the commentary on the loud speaker reports that the driver is walking back down the course. Relief at last; whatever

the news may be, the driver it all right. Alternatively, perhaps, there is no reassurance. An official car leaves the pits carrying a white flag and worst of all, a pall of black smoke from the far side of the track indicates a car on fire. Those of us who have been involved for many years have been through it all. What can one say to the wife or girlfriend holding the stopwatch? In respect of Clive Dunfee’s crash, in a way I was not surprised. I always feared for my friends driving fast cars on the outer circuit. Having tried myself in that same car, before it was rebuilt as an 8-litre and only in touring trim, I could imagine how frightening it would be. With a big speed differential between the competing cars, and a narrow strip of banking available, it must have been hazardous in the extreme. It seems that everyone has a different attitude to potential danger in motor racing. For me it is the velocity, the sheer speed of At the big bump on the Home

the car if an accident occurs, that is frightening. I discussed this at

aniaiain whilst Tim Bit

outer circuit frightening because you could see a long way ahead all

Banking Howe ee at Brooklands, coblands, How

very frightening!

some length ngth with wi Lord Howe. He told me that he did not find the

the time. He said that it was the blind corners in a road race which

IN iN IN

CHAPTER Re

beac

John Cobb with the

Napier-Railton.

he found more frightening, even round the Mountain at Brooklands where you could suddenly find another car broadside across your bows. Watching very fast cars on that outer circuit at Brooklands was tremendously exciting. I enjoyed it only in retrospect, but at the time I found it too worrying because of the danger. In the succeeding years though I saw a lot of outer circuit races, the speeds were faster every year and I became more and more worried. In truth there were very few bad accidents, and in fact the fastest car of the lot looked, and probably was, the safest of all. That was the famous Napier-Railton, superbly driven by the quiet, modest John Cobb. I think that probably all the special outer circuit cars

BSS

were safe, and it was the road racing cars which seemed dangerous. At the end of the 1932 season, Lord Howe set off for Italy to compete in the Coppa Acerbo at Pescara on the Adriatic Coast and then on to Monza for the Grand Prix. I would have thought that he would have taken his Type 51 Bugatti, because both events

LLG

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were full Grands Prix, but he took his favourite little Delage. The €quipe looked very smart with its Commer van. I wished I could have gone over because I had never seen the Pescara Circuit, which George Monkhouse later told me was one of the best and most demanding with very fast corners and one long straight.

Inevitably, the 11/2-litre Delage was outclassed amongst the 3-litre machines but he finished well. At Monza, the ‘Old Man’

made his usual mistake with the Delage, stalling on the line. Driving hard, trying to catch up, he came too fast into the slightly banked Lesmo corner. He left the road and wrapped the Delage right round a big tree. With incredible luck he was absolutely unharmed, but the car was a write-off. Only the engine was

Just one Delage less for Lord Howe at Monza; amazing that the driver was unhurt.

salvaged but since he already owned the ex-Davis Delage and the Senechal car, in bits, he was able to have another rebuilt Delage with all the best parts ready for the 1933 season. One might think that Lord Howe, aged 44, would have been a bit shocked and discouraged by such a horrifying accident, but I saw him on his return to England and he was in fine form. He loved telling the story of what he described as his mishap, in his amusing matter-of-fact way. He said he could only do it once more, because after that there would be no more Delage parts left.

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Whitney Straight, after his mild foray into racing with Riley and Bugatti, suddenly decided that he liked the sport, and would have a go in a ‘proper’ car. He purchased from Sir Henry Birkin the 2.5-litre Maserati, in which Birkin held the Mountain Lap Record. Whitney immediately entered that car in the next BARC meeting in a Mountain Handicap. Most of us considered that he was sticking his neck out under the circumstances, but Whitney — though only twenty at the time — was a millionaire who could afford to go in off the deep end with the fastest car possible. Whitney was born of American parents and had been educated at Dartington Hall in Devon, an unorthodox progressive school founded by his mother. I knew one of the masters there, an amusing chap called Boris. One day whilst walking up the drive at Dartington Hall, we were joined by two young pupils, both of whom were smoking. They addressed Boris by his christian name, and asked him to help them find some bricks as they wished to break the glass in the windows of one of the class rooms. So of course in line with the ‘progressive’ views of the school, Boris had to go off and help the boys. I continued my walk alone, hoping that none of the junior school would shoot me — just for fun. Amongst Whitney’s relatives were Jock Whitney, who had been United States Ambassador to Britain, and the Hon. Dorothy Paget, so there was a motor racing connection already. At Cambridge he was up at Trinity in a group of jazz enthusiasts playing the saxophone, with other motor racing people such as Buddy Featherstonehaugh and Dick Seaman. Whitney was an outstanding personality, very good looking, immediately successful in whatever activity he really became keen on and was quietly self-confident without being at all brash. I went with Whitney to Brooklands for the practice session, and walked down to the Fork to watch him in action. He looked tremendously fast, accurate and quite relaxed, but surely — I thought — my watch must be lying. It showed him to be lapping at Tim Birkin’s record speed. I went back to the Paddock and found that my times were right and everyone was getting very excited, because sure enough he really was as fast as Tim Birkin. On the day, Whitney and that Maserati were sensational, he broke the Mountain Lap Record and was placed a close second to Lord

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Practising round the Mountain. Whitney Straight in the ex-Birkin 2.5 Maserati goes too wide.

That’s better. Nice and tight.

Howe in his Type 51 Bugatti. Whitney Straight in the wet in the 8-litre Bentley at Shelsley Walsh.

Being a Freshman at Cambridge, Whitney was not allowed a car, so for his general transport he used his own aeroplane — strangely, there seemed to be no regulations forbidding these! However, he kept a car in London, an 8-litre Bentley coupe which he had fitted with a pre-selector gearbox as for the Siddeley Special. Whitney drove the car in the sports class at Shelsley Walsh on a wet day and put up a very good show. I drove this car only once and only in London where I found the gearchange pedal very heavy to operate, but apart from that the pre-selector seemed to be a worthwhile modification — doubtless Bentley enthusiasts would be horrified! Following that BARC meeting, there were exciting developments in all directions. Whitney Straight and Lord Howe extended their racing to many more events on the Continent. Whitney found that his Maserati, now with an ENV pre-selector gearbox, was a match for all the other private entrants of Maseratis

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as well as of Bugattis and Alfa Romeos. On several occasions he was able to beat the works cars as well. An outstanding achievement of his was his out-and-out victory in the Mont Ventoux Hill Climb. A dash of thirteen miles up the Alps was very different from a thousand yards up Shelsley Walsh, but Whitney won them both and broke the records as well. At Mont Ventoux during practice there was no telephone communication between the start and finish, so leave a reasonable interval between cars leaving in case a driver caught up with the previous car his first practice run Whitney had confided that

the the on he

officials had to line at the start, the way. After needed a lot of

practice if he were to put up a good time because some of the corners were particularly difficult. So, before his second practice, he explained to the starter that his car was being difficult and he was certain that he would be very slow in the upper reaches. Please would they delay starting the car after him as otherwise there was grave danger of an accident if the next car caught him. So, with a wink to his mechanic, Whitney set off. Half-way up the climb he was able to reverse down the hill several times and have more attempts at the tricky corners. I think that the only other driver to use this stratagem was Phi Phi Entancelin who was driving a Monza Alfa Romeo instead of his usual Maserati. They both did well, Whitney making best time of the day and breaking the Hill record.

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Whitney Straight winning at Mont

Ventoux with his Maserati.

The great difference between the air temperature at the bottom and the top of the hill posed carburation difficulties for some of the entrants. Morel, in a racing Amilcar, was very fast on the lower reaches but lost power at the top finding it quite difficult to take the last corner up to the finishing line, which was very like the last corner at Rest And Be Thankful Hill Climb in Scotland. There was a lot of good Bugatti racing at Brooklands in the mid-thirties. Lord Howe was outstanding in his Type 51 and in his very fast 4.9-litre Type 54. Kaye Don, who was an exceptionally good outer circuit driver, had already demonstrated the great speed

it

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of that model and Howe showed himself every bit as brave and skilful. By any standards the Type 54 was a difficult machine. In an attempt to improve the road holding the engine was repositioned further back in the frame, but still everyone seemed to agree that it was a difficult beast. Though I watched Howe driving on the outer circuit in many cars, my most thrilling memory is of him simply flying round the banking in the Type 54 Bugatti. It is an interesting point that when he was driving that car against the very fastest cars, he seldom used the top position on the banking. He told me that he

Caracciola driving the very dated SSKL Mercedes against pure Grand Prix cars.

liked to have a reserve, so if the tail tended to slip higher he could let it slip up a little because he had to allow for someone even faster, like Cobb in the Napier-Railton, to overtake without his

iN iN

having to lift off or alter his position. His code of conduct and

IN

manners in racing were strict in the extreme and he knew he had to set an example himself. On the Continent in Grands Prix, Caracciola was driving the very dated and heavy SSKL Mercedes, really a sports car amongst pure racing cars. As he also drove a Monza Alfa Romeo in a private team, with Louis Chiron in another Monza, he demonstrated great versatility. This was very much like Lord Howe who loved to race his 38/250 Mercedes at the same time as campaigning his Type 51 Bugatti and his Delage.

Lindsay Eccles was a very dashing driver from South Wales who first appeared with a four-cylinder Type 37 Bugatti, then caught the ‘Bug’ in a big way acquiring a stable of all the fastest eight-cylinder models. All his Bugattis were black and he drove

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them just for enjoyment as fast as he could every time. He had no thought of holding back a bit to fool the handicapper; when I suggested this on one occasion he said he just couldn’t do it. He just loved the feeling of driving flat out — a real sportsman.

Lindsay Eccles. Type 37 Bugatti.

Lindsay with the lovely 3.3-litre Type 59 Bugatti.

WALLY

At another motoring level altogether, our family cars were changing. My father fell for six-cylinder smoothness and saloon car comfort so a Morris Six with light fabric saloon body took the place of the open Rover. I suppose it wasn’t a bad car of its type, but it lacked character. Now, having succumbed to closed car motoring there were no more tourers for my parents. From that time on for many years they had only Morris and Austin saloons of increasing dullness. I was sorry that there were no more Rovers as the make was quite interesting. In the early thirties I very much liked their open sports four-seater Speed 20. ‘Goldie’ Gardner had one and I had a short drive in that; apparently the model was well suited to further development and after the treatment Gardner’s was very quick indeed. A very amusing and successful cockney car dealer called Raymond Way had one and I had a good drive in his, too. He raced his at Brooklands, and also competed in several sprints and trials. There was an even better model produced for Sidney Cummings in Fulham. This was a Speed 20 with special coachwork

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by Carbodies. The coachwork was very substantial, a four-seater with helmet wings and deep valances. Sydney himself drove one at Brooklands and later we both drove it on the outer circuit taking it up to over 90 on several occasions. The handling was much better than one would have expected from a basically touring model of that type, and it was certainly fast for a 2!/2-litre and yet there was

never any racing or competition pedigree. At this time, Malcolm Campbell was keen to obtain a full-size British racing car, and coincidentally, Kaye Don was retiring from racing. When Reid Railton suggested that Don’s 4-litre V12 Sunbeams could be rebuilt to be very competitive road racing cars, Campbell bought both of the cars and set about doing that. Like most motor racing projects, the rebuild of the Sunbeams was soon running behind schedule. Campbell was going to run one at Whitsun, then on August Bank Holiday. Before the latter meeting, Raymond Mays, Peter Berthon and I met Campbell and he showed us the first of the Sunbeams. It looked most impressive, at last a real British racing car, not a new one but very much rebuilt and updated. I wished that the Invicta could be made like that for Raymond Mays and I hurriedly made drawings of a suitable light racing body. When I showed them to Peter he told me that there was something cooking, very exciting and secret, and my body design might be used very soon.

i777 77

One of Campbell’s rebuilt V12 Sunbeams being brought out of the Paddock at Brooklands by the foreman of Thompson and Taylors.

The Avon Tyre Company bought a second Invicta for Raymond Mays, identical to the first, but to be further developed for racing. The original Invicta was sold, and the new one, after some development by Peter Berthon, did some very fast laps on test at Brooklands on the Mountain Circuit. Watching this I saw Ray in the throes of a lurid spin under the Members Bridge which indicated his maximum speed for the top corner.

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At the next two Brooklands meetings, Ray and the Invicta were wonderful; a fine win in the Lightning Mountain Handicap against a bevy of Bugattis and second place behind Campbell in that rebuilt Sunbeam in the Mountain Championship. The Invicta was to be continuously developed over the years. The engine modifications were designed by Peter Berthon and Murray Jamieson working with Crump, the Meadows engine designer. There were new rods with four big-end bolts, new pistons giving a higher compression and eventually the compression ratio was raised so much that alcohol fuel was required. 158 brake horse power was obtained and Ray took it up to 4,500rpm. The standard model only gave 100bhp and maximum safe revs were 3,600rpm. When Ray first drove the car it had the standard Carbodies coachwork which I thought was so beautiful, then the helmet wings and valances were removed together with the windscreen. There was much lightening of chassis details and the exhaust system and eventually the body was stripped and the panels were made of the lightest gauge aluminium and plywood. Stil it looked very attractive but I was keen to see the Invicta with my real racing body. Now at last I was told about the great secret. Humphrey Cook was an old friend of Ray’s having raced a TT Vauxhall against him when they had both been running in Hill Climbs together. He was most impressed with the Invicta and had suggested to Ray that they should join forces and produce a real racing version. Humphrey was prepared to put up most of the finance and it was thought that Noel Macklin, Chairman of Invicta, would probably put up some and co-operate with the production of the cars. A meeting was arranged and it looked as though the

project was on.

A A é!

Humphrey Cook driving his TT Vauxhall in the days when he and Raymond Mays ran against one another in the Hill Climbs. This is at Aston Clinton.

Amherst Villiers and Murray Jamieson designed a supercharger installation, Peter Berthon started drawings of an enlarged engine of 5 litres capacity and he and Murray were at work on a lightened chassis. This was not to be an out-and-out

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racer, but a sports/racing car suitable for the TT and Le Mans; in fact, exactly what I had suggested to the old Bentley Company a couple of years previously. Needless to say, I was absolutely delighted, all my dreams were coming true. Peter Berthon spent a lot of time at Wolverhampton with Crump at the Meadows works. A prototype engine, but of only 4!/2 litres capacity using the original block, was completed. At the Invicta works a light chassis was constructed with the help of Reid Railton. It was fitted with an experimental 14/20 supercharged 1!/2-litre six-cylinder engine, but was planned for the new 5-litre racing car. The general design was based on the low chassis 4!/2-litre but with the deep frame extensively drilled. A new sloping radiator was made as was a new aluminium casting forming a bulkhead between the engine and the cockpit. A separate company was considered for the new car, of which the directors were going to be Berthon, Mays, Cook and Macklin. —

.

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The Invicta chassis.

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Of all the people I had met at Bentleys, Humphrey had seemed the kindest. In a strange way, I think, perhaps because of his shyness and my extreme youth, we had drifted towards one

another. Whilst Barnato, Birkin and their friends were bursting with noisy self-confidence, I had been happier to be with the quiet Humphrey Cook. Now Raymond Mays and Humphrey were planning a joint racing project and this was to my great joy. In many ways Ray and Humphrey were opposite characters but their differences complemented one another. Humphrey was extremely wealthy, his money had come from the textile industry, in Cook and Sons of St. Pauls in the City. In those days he always seemed a rather lonely man. He was separated, but not divorced, from his wife who had been a close friend of William Morris, later Lord Nuffield.

Humphrey’s only son, William, had had no contact with his father since early childhood.

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Raymond Mays, Whitney Straight and Lord Howe.

Very often, shy people have unexpected interests and strange depths so it seemed quite natural that Humphrey collected rare

porcelain and had a fine collection of Staffordshire pottery, but few

AALUE

people knew that he was a principal share holder in the Embassy Club and the Cafe de Paris. He also financed the new Cafe de Paris restaurant at Bray near Maidenhead. These interests seemed to fit in with his love of motor racing, but not his shy disposition, which kept him out of the social spot light. Ray’s extrovert theatrical personality appealed to Humphrey and they obviously enjoyed one another’s company, a case of opposites attracting. Over the years I noticed this situation occurring several times with Raymond Mays; he had many unlikely friends and some of his closest had very different interests. It was agreed that my racing two-seater body would be used on a special model for Ray to use at Shelsey Walsh and at sprint events at Brooklands. As soon as the prototype could be tested three new cars would be made at the Fairmile Works of Invicta. Plans were getting well advanced, the commercial side was in hand and it was intended that the 5-litre supercharged sports/racer should form part of the Invicta range. The price was going to be £1,875 for the chassis, and £2,250 for a complete car.

The London Car Exchange was only mildly interested, and my bosses obviously considered that I was too enthusiastic about the whole thing, though they were pleased to be appointed London Aa for the new model. To my great joy a fine low chassis /2-litre Invicta joined our stock and was allocated to me for most e the time. ‘My’ Invicta was silver with blue upholstery and had the right body: the Carbodies open sports four-seater. My cup was full, everyday motoring was all that I could wish for, and future racing prospects looked splendid. We soon sold a second 4!/2-litre Invicta of the same type, so my bosses began to look benevolently upon the project. I found many excuses to test or demonstrate ‘my Invicta at Brooklands. On one occasion having a testing session at

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°

ay I the track after the end of the racing season I nearly came to grief in a big way. I had been warned that there were rebuilding operations on the Railway Straight, so not to try to go too fast. It was all clear on the Home Banking and sitting low in the Invicta I could see that there were men working at the Byfleet end of the Straight. There were heaps of sand and a red flag flying on the Railway side, but it looked clear on the other side. I suppose I was doing about 70mph when I saw to my horror that there was a deep trench almost right

across the track just ahead of me. Too late to brake or swerve, I

just had to go straight for the trench, so with foot down on the throttle I bumped across — and it was a colossal bump, not at all good for the suspension. Thank heaven that trench was no wider. If the front wheels had been stopped by the trench the outcome would have been very different. But I think it taught me a lesson.

I ATT,

‘My’ Invicta.

Apart from that incident all was plain sailing, and my Invicta motoring was the best I had ever known. However, you

cannot win them all, and my Invicta dream never matured. It seemed that the cost of the project was much greater than was first calculated; the money required for the new Meadows engine and the costs at Invictas made the whole project out of the question, so the venture fell through. Humphrey took over Ray’s Invicta and was planning to do some racing again himself and the Villiers supercharger was further developed for Shelsley Walsh. Humphrey had a road accident in the Invicta in London, with slight damage to the front and back of the car but not to himself. As we have seen on other occasions, Humphrey could be easily disenchanted, and he immediately sold the car and gave up any interest in Invictas. The prototype 5-litre Invicta chassis was later sold to a Mr. Fenton who rebuilt it with a supercharged 2-litre Lagonda engine. The new car, called the FM Special, was owned by Sebag Montefiore and was intended for International Rallies. However,

Sebag was killed in a flying accident and the FM Special was rebodied as a coupé for general road use. It was all very well for Ray, Peter and Humphrey suddenly to forget Invictas and switch to something else, but I was still

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completely hooked on them. Fortunately another friend, Charles Needham, who had been running his model A Ford — of all things! — in rallies, fell for Invictas and bought a very good example. Charles and I had some good drives together, though they could be a bit frightening because he drove absolutely flat out everywhere. His blue/grey low chassis Invicta was very successful in several trials and rallies, and then he ran it at Shelsley Walsh. With very little experience in any racing, he went very well indeed and the Invicta was always very well presented.

Charles married a diminutive American girl called Arline, who used to be a circus acrobat who specialized in high wire tightrope walking. We said that only a girl with that sort of background would dare ride with Charles. Arline proved that she was every bit as good a driver as her husband and they made a splendid team.

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Opposite, left. Charles Needham with his A-Type Ford competing in a rally. Seems to be in a difficult position! Opposite, right. Arline and Charles Needham in the low-chassis Invicta.

I feared that the collapse of the Mays Invicta project would prejudice the motor racing side of my job with the LCE, but various friends of Ray and Humphrey bought new Talbot and Humber cars from us just at the right time, so I was able to continue to spend a disproportionate amount of time at Brooklands. For me the 1933 International Trophy was one of the most memorable Brooklands races. A Handicap race where the slower cars start first, and fast machines only come into the picture at the end, can never be quite as good as a scratch event, but of course the cars had to be handicapped at most events to accommodate their widely different speeds. Nearly all races at Brooklands were run to that format, then ‘Bunny’ Dyer the secretary of the JCC hit upon a brilliant idea. At Brooklands there was a vast area of track at the Fork where the old Finishing Straight joined the outer circuit opposite the Vickers Sheds. Dyer conceived the idea of dividing the track into three separate channels, one going straight on, another taking a chicane, and the third one taking another of greater severity. The go-ahead JCC ran the International Trophy using that scheme. It was a Handicap race still, but one at which all cars started together, and, in theory at any rate, all would finish at about the same time. No difficulty in working out who was leading, or who would eventually lead: he who was first past the post each lap was winning. In order to compress the classes into only three categories

TL77 ID

there had to be some amalgamation so, naturally, a few cars were

at a disadvantage; but generally speaking it worked well. In the International, Group | — going straight on at the Fork — included the Austins, M.G. Midgets, Riley Nines, and a Type 37 4-cylinder unblown Bugatti. Group 2, had two Amilcar Sixes and the Mille Miglia K3 MG Magnettes, Lord Howe deciding to use his for that race. A surprising entry in that class was the Birkin Speed 20 Alvis. At last it had been sold and the new owner was Sir Ronald Gunter,

Arline Needham in the 2-litre Frazer-Nash at Shelsley Walsh.

who entered the car with Dr. Benjafield as his co-driver. I thought this was a most unsuitable event for that car because it was up against pure racing cars. Though it was stripped of its sporting equipment such as wings, lamps and screen, I knew it would be hopelessly outclassed. Both Smith-Clark, the Alvis designer, and Charles Follett agreed that it was the wrong sort of race but Ronald was adamant. Benjy shrugged his shoulders; it was not his car, and he would enjoy the drive without any expectation of success. Group 3 was going to be very exciting. We were going to see a Monza Alfa-Romeo racing in this country for the first time, this was a works car purchased by Noel Rees and entered by Arthur Fox, to be driven by Brian Lewis. Malcolm Campbell entered the rebuilt 4-litre V12 Sunbeam and nominated Chris Staniland as his co-driver. Whitney Straight entered the ex-Birkin Maserati for what was going to be his first International event. No wonder I was excited as there was a wonderful entry and I had friends in rival camps. At the start of practice, as I dashed from pit to pit, Kensington Moir grabbed my coat tails and told me

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to slow down and not go mad. I think I wanted Campbell to be the winner, as I thought it would be good to see the Skipper win

another major race at Brooklands after his absence on land speed record bids. Then Brian Lewis was going to drive a car that I had only seen on the Continent, and longed to see racing here. Lord Howe’s K3 Magnette was another obvious favourite after I had seen the prototype at Abingdon and had actually driven Howe’s Mille Miglia car up and down the Aerodrome road. I was equally enthusiastic about Whitney Straight, having been with him when he broke the Mountain Record, and last, but not least, I was finally going to see the Birkin Alvis in a race. In that first practice session I was worried because Campbell’s Sunbeam only did a few slow laps and then came in with gear selector trouble, though it seemed not to worry Campbell or Villa. There was an extra chicane to slow down all the entry half way down the Finishing Straight. Each group had the ends of the tails of their cars painted a distinguishing colour so that each driver knew which channel would be taken by the car ahead. As nearly every car had a proper tail, they looked quite nice, but on the few cars which had a slab tank at the rear, such as two of the three

Jameamesney Froy, Whitney and Robertson Justice about

to set off for practice for the International Trophy at

Brooklands.

Magnettes, it was rather odd to see a stripe on the centre of the petrol tank. On the second practice session I went down to the first chicane with Whitney Straight’s chauffeur as we both wished to do some filming. We got rather a shock when Manby-Colegrave missed the corner and slid between us. He must have been pleased that he missed me since I was using his camera! At the start of the race I was going to do some spotting in

~Campbell’s pit and we. saw that everyone : got away well, : and it

Group 2 cars were well behind and the Group 3 cars did not come into the picture until they reached the Finishing Straight. In no

AAAS

International Trophy. Already leading is Brian Lewis in the ‘Monza’ Alfa-Romeo; also clear in the picture: Straight’s Maserati, Don’s Bugatti, Howe’s MG and Campbell’s Sunbeam

:

Seemed that the handicap plan was working smoothly. Jim Elwes in his MG Midget led at the beginning of the Byfleet Banking, the

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Whitney Straight in the chicane for the fastest class. He had taken a Cambridge exam in the morning and flown

in to compete in the race.

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time at all Whitney Straight in that shining black and silver Maserati built up a good lead, going faster every lap, and Campbell, followed by Brian Lewis and Kaye Don with the big 4.9 Bugatti were getting left behind. Chris Staniland told me that Whitney was over-driving the Maserati and that it would never last. When Whitney had more than a clear lap ahead of everyone the Maserati packed up just as forecast. This was a pity really, because I think that had he been content to stay amongst the leaders until the last few laps he could have won the race. Now Campbell was in the lead, but only for a few laps and he stopped at the beginning of the second chicane and then completed a slow lap before handing over to Chris. The supercharger drive had sheared so the car was very down on speed and Chris only did a few more laps before he retired. Eddie Hall was doing very well with a K3 Magnette and he and Bill Wisdom were leading their group. Brian Lewis took over the lead after the failure of the Sunbeam and the Monza Alfa-Romeo looked invincible. As we feared, the ex-Birkin Alvis was quite hopeless. I cannot remember who drove first but it soom went out with the engine blown. The International Trophy, with ‘Bunny’ Dyer’s unique Handicap system, was a great success. Brian Lewis won the race in the Monza Alfa-Romeo, and Eddie Hall and Bill Wisdom

were second and third in the K3 MG Magnettes.

International Trophy, Brooklands.

The winner Brian

Lewis in the Alfa-Romeo; and Lord Howe in the K3 MG.

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A telephone call from Raymond Mays suggested that I should meet him and Peter Berthon in the Paddock at Brooklands for practice before the August Bank Holiday meeting to see something very interesting, I knew this must be a new project, and I was very excited for I was certain that it would be the other Malcolm Campbell 4-litre V12 Sunbeam. Ray and Peter had so liked that car, and Campbell did speak of a second car. Well, of

course it was not anything like that, but ‘The White Riley’, as it was soon dubbed. It was terrific: quite small but somehow or other looking very formidable, and much more attractive than any other Riley I had ever seen. Ray told me the story of the project with Victor Riley, and how Murray and Peter had produced this car in a very short time. I sat in the pale blue upholstered seat and noted the typical Riley controls, and how everything was beautifully finished. Murray fired up the engine and I listened to the high pitched scream of the supercharger. Beside the car Ray had a new Riley Kestrel, also immaculately presented, but this time black, with pale blue upholstery and silver wheels. It was very much a Riley

equipe. On the day I had no eyes for any other car: Raymond Mays and the White Riley had all my attention. It looked and sounded fine, as Ray took it up to the start of its Mountain Race. Off the scratch mark they streaked away with quite a lot of wheel spin. The first lap was great, and I ran to the top of the Paddock to see the cars entering the top corner under the Bridge, but the Riley did not appear. The supercharger drive had sheared so Ray only did that one lap. This was terribly disappointing, but at least it was nothing serious and the car had shown great promise.

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Raymond Mays in the White Riley leading Straight around the Fork in a Mountain Handicap at Brooklands.

At the London Car Exchange, we had been doing rather well selling a new sports car, the SS. Though by no means a thoroughbred, and certainly not a racing car, it was very attractive in its way. Almost ridiculously moderately priced the SS1 Coupé at £310, looked a £1,000 touch. With a moderately tuned side-valve Standard engine of 2 litres, the SS had no top end performance but

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mew Mh up to about 60mph it was quite brisk. When SS introduced an open sports four-seater, I became more interested. Amongst my friends at The Autocar at Dorset House, Sammy Davis was a bit scornful, but

he could afford to be, because his everyday car was an ex-works 1!/2-litre Aston Martin. The Technical Editor, Douglas Clease,

liked the SS and he and I enjoyed a good run in a works demonstrator. Then Douglas ordered one for himself which was considerably modified and improved for competition. Amongst changes were spare wheels mounted in the front wings which improved the weight distribution.

Charles Needham in his first SSI modified for the Alpine Trial.

After the Invicta, Charles and Arline Needham bought one of those SS1 tourers which I also drove. Charles joined the SS Team for the Alpine Trial, so his car was modified in the same way as was done for Douglas Clease. Together we took it down to Brooklands and although it was not really suitable for the outer circuit it certainly went a lot better than the original model. A bit later another friend of mine, Luis Fontes, bought a

considerably lightened 4!/2-litre low chassis Invicta. He already had an R-Type MG and had competed in some Speed Trials and was a very good driver but was rather quiet and seemed to be a studious fellow. He was interested to know about the modifications made to the Raymond Mays Invicta, so I introduced him to Peter Berthon. Geoffrey Dunfee, his friend John Hodge and I, had the loan

John Hodge, not hanging about in the SSI.

of an SSI tourer demonstrator for a weekend. John so liked the car that he bought one and decided to race it. We all warned him against this and even the SS company told him that it was not really suitable, but John was determined to have a go. He was quite a character, very good looking, a good driver though a bit reckless. I always enjoyed his company because he extracted the maximum amount of fun from everything. His motoring was rather like his love life — predominately hilarious. He joined the newly formed Junior Racing Drivers Club, with which Louis Klemantaski, the well known photographer, was much concerned. John competed in a number of their evening Mountain Races, with which I was

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supposed to be helping, but I cannot remember much about it except that John brought with him an ever changing galaxy of beautiful girls. One evening I watched all the racing from the Members Bridge and noted that John was surprisingly fast, but right on the limit of control. The car was obviously tail happy and he had forgotten to take the spare wheel off. He bravely tried every different sort of approach to the top turn, including putting his nearside front wheel over the lip of the banking, but miraculously he did not have an accident and I must admit he did not get in the way of any other drivers. After each evening session Sammy Davis and Tom Wisdom gave the drivers a lecture on driving manners and standards. I sat in with John and he looked as if he was listening. But on the way home afterwards I found that he could not remember what had been said — no doubt he was thinking about his girlfriends. He entered the SS in the Craigantlet Hill Climb and we joined a good party from England including Pat Uniacke with a blown Hyper Lea Francis and Chris Lindsay with a 3-litre T.T. type Austro-Daimler. John had the usual hairy runs and had a lot of fun but did not get into the results. He sold the SS and bought a Le Mans Singer Nine. Again I thought it was not really the ideal car for his racing but better than the SS.

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The Austro-Daimler, more

than a little sideways, with Chris Lindsay at the helm.

ay MS Ty Despite his lighthearted approach to the sport and the fact that he caned that Singer unmercifully, he in fact had quite an amount of success with the car — those overhead camshaft Singer engines were quite strong! We made up a hilarious party on the instigation of a mad American called Spike Rhiando to go racing on Greenford Cinder Track. Greenford was well established for speedway racing on motor cycles and Spike thought it would be super for car racing as well. There was T.P. Cholmondley-Tapper (whom we all called George, because he never remembered peoples names and called everyone George) with a very fast Type 37 Bugatti which he and Eileen Ellison had been racing very successfully, Dick Nash in ‘The Terror’ which was one of the fastest single-seater Frazer-Nashes, Vic Derrington in a Salmson, and Adrian and Dennis Conan-Doyle, the sons of the famous author,

driving an old Mercedes. Considerable prize money was promised and even starting money as well, which was most unusual. In practice it was a bit of a giggle; not motor racing at all but a lot of ballyhoo. The short circuit prevented any real speed and nearly everyone used second gear all the time. Not surprisingly the Conan-Doyles were the star turns as far as the public was concerned, not that there was much of a public despite a lot of advertising. Adrian broadsided all the time and managed to demolish most of the safety fencing on the outside of the track. Most of us never stopped laughing, and John Hodge and George Cholmondley-Tapper won their events. They had to be content with only a small percentage of the promised prize money because there had been a poor gate, and motor racing at Greenford soon faded out.

Greenford Hodge Singer about Austin

Dirt Track. John with the Le Mans to take an Ulster and win his race.

Without doubt, my favourite racing car at that time was the White Riley. Raymond Mays said that at Shelsley Walsh the Riley was far easier to drive than his other cars. In the dry, he could

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drive flat out all the way to the Esses, peak revs in each gear; peak, not maximum revs — not quite the same thing. Driving flat out still meant lifting off to change up on the crash box. The changes to second and to third happened to occur at the very best moments to align the car for the Kennel and Crossing Bends. At Brooklands, in the Mountain Championship, we were all looking forward to seeing Nuvolari driving Lord Howe’s Type 51 Bugatti. In practice I watched him trying many different lines at the Fork. Afterwards, in the Paddock, listening to him talking with

Howe, I could not understand a word because they were talking in Italian; a pity, because his comments must have been interesting. On the day, Taruffi drove instead of Nuvolari and it was one of those calamitous races. Everything went wrong. Tim Rose-Richards, in his Bugatti, came far too fast into the first corner and spun right in front of Campbell’s Sunbeam. They collided and stopped, and Taruffi had to stop as well. Ray, in the Riley, was going very well behind Straight’s Maserati. Then Ray slid to a

In the Mountain

Gis SEt Sbabeh Oe? the way after the nonsense.

standstill at the Fork and once again Taruffi almost had to stop to

avoid shunting into the Riley. I was watching with one of the

Stewards and we both thought that the Riley’s brakes had locked.

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In fact, the rotor arm had broken in the distributor just as Ray opened the throttle half way round the corner. Whitney Straight had an easy win. In time for the next Mountain Race, the Oxford/Cambridge event, Peter Berthon was able to rob a rotor

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arm from Ray’s Riley Kestrel. On this occasion the Riley went splendidly and Ray won the race and also established a new

1!/2-litre lap record.

Whitney Straight.

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Whitney Straight completed a good season with the ex-Birkin car, so decided to extend his activities by ordering two new 3-litre Maseratis for 1934, and made arrangements for them to be

modified to a plan devised by Giulio Ramponi. He also bought the special lightweight 1933 model which Nuvolari had driven for the works. Humphrey Cook was so impressed with the performance of the White Riley that he wrote to Raymond Mays making the historic suggestion that they should join together and form a company to make a new real racing car based on that Riley. The plan was agreed and the general arrangements were concluded almost straight away. The new car was to be called the ERA.

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The full story of the negotiations and the technical details are well known and have been documented in Raymond Mays’ book Split Seconds, and also in David Weguelin’s History of ERA in which are quoted my own recollections which were originally published in the ERA Club Magazine. Even at this stage the project seemed wonderful, and I longed to learn more about it, but during the first few months when new buildings were being built at Bourne and the first engines were being assembled, I was with other teams. The two-seater Monza Alfa Romeo had been superseded by the single-seater P3 monoposto which was dominating the Continental scene. Lord Howe tried hard to acquire one of those cars, but monopostos were made available only to Scuderia Ferrari. So, like Whitney Straight, he gave his custom to Maserati, and bought the standard production 2.9-litre single-seater. For a long time it did not appear in England because it was kept and maintained at the Maserati works at Bologna. Finished in his livery, the Maserati looked beautiful; the detail finish was better than I had seen on any of the rival Alfa Romeos. Various items, including the exhaust system, were made in stainless steel. Howe had a fitting for the seat, just as he would have had a fitting for a new suit. A trial run at Monza went very well, the 2.9-litre eight-cylinder engine proving surprisingly flexible with a lot of torque from quite low revs. In contrast with the Delage he made splendid standing starts right from the first. His first race with the car was Monaco. Round the slower

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Top, left. Jock Finlayson, Billy Rockell and Dick Seaman look at the first of the Straight single-seater 3-litre Maseratis in the Paddock at Brooklands for first tests before the new heart-shaped cowl is ready. Top, right. Giulio Ramponi with the car with the new cowl.

Above, left. Though originally available only to Scuderia Ferrari, some years later Monopostos were around in private hands in England. Jack Bartlett reverses his in the Paddock at Brooklands.

Above, right. Charles Brackenbury testing.

corners such as the Gas Works turn and accelerating away, he was as fast as anyone, but was not quite so sure on the faster stretches and he had a monumental spin, without hitting anything, when braking for the left-hander at the Hotel de Paris. Whitney Straight had similar problems but not to the same extent. They both finished but not amongst the leaders. After the first race the Straight Maseratis were steady as rocks everywhere. Modifications to the chassis as instructed by Ramponi and the fitting of Wilson pre-selector gearboxes made them the fastest cars of their type. The Straight €quipe was superbly professional, his other team drivers, Hugh Hamilton and Buddy Featherstonehaugh having just the same sort of dedicated approach. The special Whitney Straight Maseratis were very striking looking cars. They had special heart-shaped cowls over the radiators and were pure monoposto. On the standard production model, like Lord Howe’s, the driver changed gear with the left hand on the lever projecting from the sliding pinion gearbox. The

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Straight cars had the driver sitting very high on top of the big pre-selector gearbox, changing gear with the right hand on the little quadrant lever behind the steering wheel. All the 2.9 Maseratis were very light and tended to be skittish; Lord Howe certainly found his too lively. He told me that the ex-Nuvolari Straight car, usually driven by Hamilton, was lighter than the rest — only thirteen cwt, — and it had a very narrow

chassis. Of the two Straight Maseratis, Number | had a wide body, conforming to Grand Prix Formula dimensions, and a very large fuel tank. The Number 2 car had a narrower body and smaller fuel tank and was more suitable for the short British races and Hill Climbs. For Shelsley Walsh a 4.9 to 1 axle ratio was used. For the International Trophy at Brooklands it was planned to use Number 2 car but it was not quite ready so the Number 1 Grand Prix model was used instead. Despite wet weather favouring the smaller cars Whitney used the great power of the Maserati, controlling the wheel spin with a masterly light touch, and scoring an easy victory.

Whitney winning his first race with the Maserati Grand Prix model overtaking Norman Black in his K3 Magnette.

Watching the Handicap chicane in the wet, I noticed how he accelerated hard yet never let the tail hang out like most of his competitors. In a very short time he had perfected his style and fulfilled the promise that he had shown the previous season. The Lord Howe Maserati was fast and mechanically reliable, ' but lacking in road holding at high speed. On a fast corner if it hit a bump or any irregular bit of road, it could swap ends like a flash. It required the very quickest reactions, and I think perhaps only Nuvolari managed it. Even at Brooklands in practice for the

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Empire Trophy, on the only occasion that he drove it in England,

Lord Howe spun it coming off the big bump. His Lordship’s many friends feared for him with that car. However, he always liked it himself, and when he spun it he always said it was his fault, not the car’s. Both of the special Straight single-seaters had much better road holding, and even Straight’s normal production models — which had been driven by Nuvolari — had better road holding than Howe’s because Ramponi had the chassis frame boxed in to make it

Nuvolari.

more rigid. Hugh Hamilton, who drove that car for Straight, really loved it, but it was in this car that he met his death, turning end over end in the Grand Prix at Tripoli. ‘Hammy’ was extremely popular and was regarded as one of our most promising young drivers and his death was a dreadful blow to British Motor Racing. Lord Howe, who first spotted his expertise, always said he could have been the greatest of all.

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Hugh Hamilton with the old 2.5 Maserati, at the time when Whitney Straight was using the 2.9-litre model.

I received an invitation from Raymond Mays to Brooklands on the 22nd May when the first ERA racing car was to be shown to the Press. Right from the start I felt that this would be a milestone. Knowing that this was to be a development of the White Riley, I imagined that the new car would look very like a Riley. Imagine my surprise when I saw the absolutely beautiful pale green single-seater ERA for the first time. It was stunning in all its straightforward, clear-cut rightness. At last, here was a British racing car as obviously thoroughbred as a Bugatti, Alfa Romeo or Maserati. Immaculately finished and presented, every line and detail said RACING. This was no racing version of a sports car or old racing car updated. This was the real thing at last. Apart from its sheer beauty, one feature was quite new and startling — those tiny little wheels and big fat tyres. No racing, or even sports car, had ever appeared like this, the very wide wheels were only sixteen inch and were shod with special wide 6.00 tyres.

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In a way, the ERA looked like a big roller skate. Yet that did not, in any way, detract from its appearance, it merely accentuated its newness. Until that moment, I did not know that the ERA was going to have a pre-selector gearbox. But, of course, this was the newest

thing, as Campbell and Straight had demonstrated with the Sunbeam and the Maseratis. I liked the positioning of the gear lever inside the right-hand side of the cockpit. Ray, in pale blue shirt, tie and pullover, wearing his beret, climbed into the car and was push-started in front of the Clubhouse. A lovely sharp crackle of the exhaust resulted, and I saw for the first time what became the

typical transmission drag of the pre-selector gearbox as Ray blipped the throttle. Out of the Paddock gate onto the Finishing Straight, Ray took the car round the outer circuit quite slowly, returning up the Finishing Straight not using the Members Banking. Many Press photographs were taken, then three more slow complete laps of the circuit and a final short blast at high revs before he returned to the Paddock. I was almost speechless with admiration and everyone was enthusiastic. Ray, Peter, Reid Railton, Murray Jamieson and all the

mechanics seemed happy, as one would expect. The first person I spoke to when the car came in was Humphrey Cook. He always gave the impression that he was unemotional, a man of few words, not given to extravagant flowery and theatrical prose like Ray and Peter. Seeing him smiling and knowing him as well as I did by that time, I expected his grunt of pleasure. But I could see that he, of all people, was in fact, so full of emotion that he could not speak. He had to blow his nose to hide his feelings before he could utter a word.

ay ML Na ERA, Ray, Peter and Humphrey — a milestone indeed.

Though I could not know then just how those names would shape my life, I was already determined that I would become as close as possible to it all. I later learned that the engine started to run a big end when Ray really revved it, but nobody else knew apart from one of the mechanics and Peter. A complete engine rebuild was necessary. That car and a second model of 1100cc was entered for the races in the Isle of Man. Ray said he was not all that happy with the road holding so the second car was scratched and Ray only did a few laps in practice with the 1500cc car, which was also scratched. Tim Rose-Richards was invited to try the bigger car and he confirmed Ray’s opinion that more development was needed to

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make the road holding acceptable.

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It was intended that the ERA would be ready for Shelsley Walsh, but the first car was still being modified to improve the road

IN

holding so they came with the White Riley instead. I was terribly disappointed and spent no time at all in the Paddock. I watched every climb from the Crossing or the Esses. Whitney was the star turn, 40 seconds dead, a new record — so very neat and tidy. Lord Howe was also on very good form. Before the meeting he had borrowed twin rear wheels for his Type 51 Bugatti, and tried them round the Mountain. He told me that they were hopeless and completely spoiled the balance of the car. He said that Ettore and his son Jean both said that they would be no good, and he found that they were right. At Shelsley Lindsay Eccles and Howe used the ordinary single wheels and put up splendid performances. Howe was absolutely terrific in the big Mercedes climbing in 46.2 seconds, winning his class. This was a fantastic performance, because it was better than Caracciola’s time in the short chassis SSK. The White Riley was easily the fastest 1!/2-litre and was second FTD. The next event was the British Empire Trophy at

Brooklands, and we were going to see the ERA really racing. I resisted the temptation of going up to Bourne early in the week because I knew that everyone was flat out working on the car so, instead, I went down to Brooklands for the first practice session; but there was no sign of the ERA. I knew I shouldn’t phone so I didn’t, and when the last practice session was nearly over the ERA van drove into the Paddock followed by Ray’s Riley saloon. The ERA was wheeled out straight away and Ray jumped in and did two or three laps at moderate speed: they adjusted the shock absorbers and Humphrey did three laps. Ray did just one more at higher speed before the flag went out closing the circuit. The course was a special one with tight artificial chicanes marked by straw bales. Watching the end of this practice from a vantage point opposite the Vickers Sheds I noted that the ERA

The very first ERA, RIA, outside Thompson and Taylors for the first showing.

seemed to have great acceleration but the drivers were thrown about a bit on braking. The only noticeable change to the car was a new seat with big rolls forming arms holding the driver in position. Ray said it was a great improvement but he was still not very happy with the handling at high speed. Early on race day Peter and the mechanics were still working on the car, Ray chain-smoking all the time and looking a mass of nerves. Humphrey looked a bit despondent and he doubted if they

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would start. Peter was the only one really optimistic, and said that of course they would start. Just as they started the car up to go to the line an oil pipe fractured. John Lea and Peter changed it in record time but the rest of the field had done several laps before the ERA was in the race. I watched all this from the ERA pit. Considering that this was its first real race the car went very well indeed. It was in and out of the pits several times, the first time with a flat tyre caused by a wood screw, of all things! And the Brooklands silencer split open and had to be patched. Both Ray and Humphrey drove the car;

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During the Empire Trophy; Ray standing in R1A, Pugh changing plugs, Berthon and Murray Jamieson in the pits.

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Ray wearing a dark blue velvet racing cap and Humphrey his white crash helmet. The car looked and sounded fine and, though it was not amongst the leaders, it ran right through its first race and had a very good Press afterwards. More than ever I was convinced that this would be our best British racing car. I really did not take much notice of the rest of the race but it looked as though Whitney would win again with the 2.9 Maserati. He was certainly leading until near the finish, but an unscheduled pit stop lost him the race

In the British Empire Trophy,

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Nicholl 2-litre Singer and following a Brooklands Riley.

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my MA ST and George Eyston won with the very odd-looking M.G. Magic Magnette. After the race Whitney Straight and George Eyston came over to the ERA pit and congratulated Ray and Humphrey. I met Madge Cook for the first time and assumed that she was Humphrey’s second wife. She was very enthusiastic about the ERA and was already planning involvement with the team on the Continent.

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Going through the tricky chicane where Houldsworth was killed.

The pit-stop which lost Whitney the race in the 2.9-litre Maserati.

L to R, John Cobb, Lord

Howe, Prince Bertil of Sweden, Lindsay Eccles and Whitney Straight looking like the chorus line just about to break into a tap dance to accompany the signature tune!

The new ERA had been the sensation of the race, at last a

real British contender. It looked and sounded splendid. The radiator badge had the initials ERA on a rising sun, but the name

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on the side of the van was in the form of the initials surrounded by red, white and blue circles. That arrangement was designed by Squadron Leader Lester, always called ‘Pingo’, a very enthusiastic friend of Ray’s at RAF Duxford.

The Commer van sporting ‘Pingo’s’ new badge.

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In the Paddock afterwards I met three more of Ray’s friends who had come to watch the race. The girl was a ballet dancer and both of the men were also on the stage. I was able to give them a lift back to London as they were all going to a rehearsal of a new musical comedy. We found we had mutual friends in the theatre world and I discovered that Raymond Mays and Peter Berthon shared with me an enthusiasm and adulation for the stage stars. Suddenly it all clicked together — motor racing and the theatre — there was the extravagant phraseology, the same awareness of dress and a certain similarity of lifestyle. Ivor Novello was a close friend of Ray’s and we all loved the same sort of music. It was strange and fortuitous for me that my love for the theatre, particularly musical comedy, had been reflected at Bentleys with Woolf Barnato and his set, and now the same thing was happening again with Raymond Mays and his friends. When they had first considered a name for the new car, Peter Berthon suggested two possibilities. BRM for Berthon Raymond Mays/British Racing Motors or alternatively ERA, for English Racing Automobiles. In fact, I believe that Peter first suggested those names even earlier when the 5-litre Invicta project was being considered and I know that both names were registered some time before the war. The decision to use the name English Racing Automobile/ERA was decided upon because it was thought that the cars would eventually be called Eras, just as the Italian FIAT cars are known as Fiats. Well — it just didn’t happen that

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my MS _ "1 way, but it well might have done. The Dieppe Grand Prix had to be ERA’s first Continental engagement. Lord Howe, who had such valuable and successful experience at Dieppe, strongly recommended that the ERA team should run just to get the feel of the Continental opposition even though further development was required before the car could be really competitive. Howe had entered his Maserati which was proving very reliable and fast. It had been returned to the works for a check over and Thomas was to collect it from Bologna in the Commer van and go direct to Dieppe. The second ERA — the 1100cc model for Humphrey — was nearly ready, but work was concentrated on the 1!/2-litre for Dieppe. We all so liked the ERA badge which Pingo had designed for the van that it was decided to put this on the radiator instead of the rising sun emblem which was first used. Ray and Peter travelled to Dieppe with Ray’s Riley Kestrel, and Humphrey came in his open 4!/2-litre Bentley, accompanied by Percy Pugh. I was able to cadge a lift on the way with John Hodge and Victor Rothschild. We first met Victor when he raced his 38/250 Mercedes in the Inter-Varsity Speed Trials in which he drove with great verve.

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38-250 Mercedes in the Paddock at Brooklands. The British-built two-seater bodies used by Victor Rothschild and Goldie Gardner was very attractive and quite light, despite the heavy appearance.

Tim Rose-Richards joined us on the boat. Originally, he instead of Humphrey was going to drive the work’s 1100cc ERA but as only the 1!/2 was to be raced, Tim came with his Bugatti. It was rather a rough crossing and nearly everyone felt a bit sick; only Peter Berthon and I enjoyed the big waves. I am lucky in that I just

never feel sick however rough it gets. As I rather expected there were teething troubles with the ERA in practice but everyone was surprised at the acceleration, and the road holding was getting better every time. There was going to be a motorcycle race at that meeting and Ray and Peter had a friend amongst the British riders. After the end of the first session of car practice, Peter was helping his friend

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with the bike and to my astonishment I saw Peter ride off down the circuit amongst the racers. He was in his shirt sleeves — no hat, just wearing goggles and with his flannel trousers tucked in his socks. He did two or three laps; I don’t suppose he was really going very fast but still I was very worried. Ray came and stood beside me and I told him that Peter should not be doing that. Ray said, ““You can never stop Peter doing such things”. When he came in he said that Chris Staniland had been round as well. But I knew that Staniland had been a very experienced motorcycle rider at Brooklands. Peter and the mechanics worked through the night before the race changing the head. In a film I have, taken at the time, Peter can be seen yawning his head off. The race was run in two heats and a final. Entancelin ran away with the first heat, in which the British drivers Penn Hughes and Chris Staniland did very well, but we heard that Lindsay Eccles had had a serious accident. Penn Hughes told us that the Bugatti was in bits all over the road. Ray, in the second heat, made a good start and was amongst the leaders until the ERA went on to five cylinders. At a very quick pit stop Percy Pugh changed the offending plug. It required a long push to get the engine going again and as it was disappearing down the track we could hear that it was still on only five cylinders. Ray continued for several laps and signalled that he was coming in on the next one. On that lap, right in front of Ray, one of the French drivers, Gaupillat, left the road, hit a tree and crashed upside down

in the middle of the road. Ray only just managed to get by with two wheels in the gutter, almost hitting Gaupillat’s body, sprawled beside the wreck of the Bugatti. When Ray came in, a bit shocked, Peter checked the ignition

which seemed to be okay so the ERA was sent off again, but Ray only did one more lap and at the pits it was discovered that a rocker had broken so the car was retired. We heard that Gaupillat never regained consciousness and died in hospital. Before the final, the motorcycle race was run, which I thought looked very dangerous. There were many accidents, chaps ’ coming off in all directions, but they were all so well padded that noone was seriously injured. Our English friend did very well, and was placed in his class. In the final, we expected that Chiron in a monoposto

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Alfa-Romeo would win, but both the Alfas had transmission

trouble and the very popular Phi Phi Entancelin won in his Maserati. Lord Howe had a good race, finishing third in his heat and in the final. After the race I had a look at the remains of Lindsay’s Bugatti and reckoned that he had been very lucky.

Winner at Dieppe; Phi-Phi Entancelin and Maserati.

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Now we were to see real success in England. At the August Bank Holiday Meeting at Brooklands were two immaculate ERAs in their British Racing Green. I use the phrase purposely because British Racing Green is any shade of green, just as French Racing Blue is any blue and Italian Racing Red is any red. Some people seem to think that BRG is only the very dark green we used to use at Bentleys — it is not. The very pretty and distinctive pale green used by ERAs was officially described by the paint manufacturer as Linden Green. In fact, this was only a marketing name and was not even a recognized artist’s shade. The two ERAs looked almost identical. Ray’s 11/2-litre could only be distinguished from Humphrey’s 1100cc model by the fact that on Ray’s car the seat was pale blue and on Humphrey’s it was dark blue. Quite appropriate in a way as Ray had been at Cambridge and Humphrey was an Oxford man. It was a wonderful day and the ERAs stole the show. They both ran in Mountain Races and each broke the class record. Humphrey won his first event and Ray was second in his.

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Humphrey Cook winning his race in the 1100cc ERA in the 1934 August Bank Holiday meeting at Brooklands.

Humphrey had a bit of an incident in his last race but coped with it very well. I was right opposite and saw it all. He left his braking rather late for the top turn, and got it sideways. Still going very quickly with his front wheels locked, the car turned to the right and started to mount the steep side of the bank approaching the turn. As he slid backwards again Humphrey opened the throttle, spinning the wheels and so preventing the car from sliding backwards across the track into the path of the other cars. On the way back to Bourne in Ray’s Kestrel, Peter was scribbling in his notebook and playing with his slide rule. He said that ERAs could now go for some records — the standing kilometre and mile in classes G and F. Everyone thought that this was a fine idea; Humphrey was in favour of going for the records at Montlhéry — any excuse for some French travel, and the wretched Brooklands silencer would not be required. However, Montlhery

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was not available and in any case the time factor meant that Brooklands would have to be used. The records were taken there on a chilly morning. Humphrey missed a gear on his first attempt but took the record on his second. Both Ray’s runs were first class and the ERAs captured all four records.

H.W. Cook. 1096cc ERA Int. Class G. Standing km Standing mile

79.75mph 88.91mph

R. Mays. 1488cc ERA Int. Class F. Standing km Standing mile

85.35mph 96.08mph

Those records were followed by a wonderful début of the 2-litre ERA at Shelsley which set me thinking how much Great Britain needed ERAs. Talking with other enthusiasts I found that there was universal acclaim for their efforts. But we were such a tiny little group and the great British public seemed to have no interest in motor racing at all.

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Ray going for records. In the background Madge Cook and Peter Berthon.

John Hodge, with his Singer Nine, was getting a bit tired of being beaten by MGs which had much lighter and more streamlined bodies. No one had so far produced a Singer with a real racing body, so he set out to get one built. A very enthusiastic chap called Francis designed and built a fully streamlined body for that Singer. After a promising trial run round the North Circular Road in London with abbreviated wings and a makeshift silencer, John entered it for the County Down Trophy Race. This was a real road race of 114 miles on a 33/4-mile course at Donaghadee near Belfast. There was a good entry, mostly of Rileys and MGs, but with two good old Grand Prix cars: McCallas’s 2-litre Sunbeam and McFerren’s 2-litre Bugatti. In practice the Grand Prix cars were much the fastest but the handicap seemed to favour the smaller cars. John found that the Singer was much faster with the new light body, and his flat-out cornering on both sides of the road was much appreciated by

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the Irish spectators. His practice times indicated that he would win quite easily if he kept that up.

John Hodge with the Singer Nine streamliner for testing.

The Grand Prix cars lead away at the start of the County Down Trophy Race.

On the day John’s performance was startling. He was soon in the lead and bound for victory if he continued at that speed and stayed on the road. It was rather like Victor Gillow’s tempestuous drive in the Saorstat Cup at Phoenix Park in 1930, but Gillow did keep his car on the road and he did win. Poor old John, after looking like an accident

almost every lap, eventually ploughed through a hedge and landed in someone’s garden. No serious damage occurred to person, car or even garden — but his race was run. It had been a brave and spectacular attempt, much approved and applauded by the enthusiastic crowd. Trevor McCallas won with the Sunbeam. He fully deserved his victory with a car which was the love of his life. He was particularly proud of

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John Hodge goes one better.

the fact that it had been previously driven by Sir Henry Segrave John Hodge ran the Singer in many events at Brooklands and was in the winning Junior Racing Drivers Club team in the Stanley Cup Relay Race, but he really wanted to have a go at one of the great races such as the Tourist Trophy. He found a customer for the

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streamliner and then bought a later model of the Le Mans Singer with the standard body which would be eligible for the 1934 Tourist Trophy Race. He was accepted in the class for cars with the smallest size of engine.

John Hodge’s Singer. The team on their way to the start.

This was the first Tourist Trophy in which Eddie Hall drove the Derby Bentley, the first of those three epic second places which so nearly put Bentleys right back in the forefront of motor racing. Superchargers were banned from that race and I think there was some loss of spectacle as a result. I certainly missed the Alfa Romeos which had been such good value in preceding TTs. In practice I had a ride round the circuit with a young Irish enthusiast, Bobby Baird, whose father owned the Belfast Telegraph. Bobby was driving a Riley Nine, an early racing version of the Imp. Because of Raymond Mays and Peter Berthon I became very Riley minded and had taken a great liking to the Imp model. As usual, all the top drivers were in the TT. My main interest could have been centred on Eddie Hall with the new Bentley, or Brian Lewis leading the Fox and Nicholl Lagonda Team, or even Luis Fontes who was running the low chassis Invicta. But in fact, on this occasion, I was with my friend John Hodge who was driving that Le Mans Singer Nine in his first big race. This was an ambitious entry with no works support and only amateur mechanics and assistants and not really enough of anything — tyres, wheels or spares. In this exalted company John did very well in the first practice session, the only other car in our class being another Singer entered by Louis Klemantaski, but it was a non-starter. There was a works team of 1!/2-litre Singers, but they were in another class. They were having so much trouble themselves that they could not have given any assistance to us. When not actually practising or working on the car we spent a

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hilarious time with some of the chain gang. Peter Mitchell-Thompson and Adrian Thorpe offered us lavish hospitality, which we first refused because we were in no position to return it. However, Peter insisted that everything was on him because his mother, Lady Anne Selsdon was paying! I am sure that I am the only person who can remember what happened at the big party in the evening after the first practice. Everyone else was too sloshed, and I made several journeys taking chaps back to their hotels in the small hours. However, no one seemed any the worse the next day and John was on particularly good form doing some good fast practice laps. I was the only one in our camp who felt excessively tired. There ain’t no justice! On race day, John made a good start and was doing quite well. His times were consistent but we knew that he could not be amongst the leaders. Our aim was to finish reasonably. As he passed the pits after ten laps he acknowledged our signal. Half way through the next lap at Ballystockart Bridge the steering gear came adrift. John swerved from side to side before crashing into the ditch. He was quite badly bruised but no worse so he was jolly lucky. Apart from the steering and one wheel the Singer was almost undamaged.

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The limit man with an Ulster Austin gets away at the start of a Mountain Race. John Hodge is next to go followed by another Ulster Austin,a Salmson and Harry Bowler’s Bentley.

A strange coincidence was that all three works Singers suffered steering failure in the following year’s TT. Not exactly the same breakage, admittedly, but still steering faults, so one cannot help being a bit cautious about Singer steering. With John Hodge out of the race, I went over to Bobby Baird’s pit but found that he, too, had retired. Apparently, clouds of smoke had come from the wiring behind the dash. Bobby burned his hand

pulling the wires away, thus preventing the car from going up in smoke, but they could not get the Riley going again. After the Singer, John progressed to a very nice L-Type MG Magna which he drove at Brooklands and in several Irish Road Races and bought a fine 1!/2-litre Le Mans Aston-Martin for the road. No car was better bred, and that model was one of the best looking sports cars in the world. It only lacked bottom end performance, so was never very good in sprints and Hill Climbs. On the open road, however,

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above 30 miles per hour, there was nothing better in its class. The lines of the Le Mans Aston were widely copied by other coachbuilders, but few looked as thoroughbred as the original.

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In the big time. John Hodge with the Le Mans Singer amongst the Rileys in the Tourist Trophy.

John Hodge in 124A, his L-Type MG Magna, in the victorious JRDC Relay Race Team.

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Straight’s new workshops in Milan, with the 8-litre Bentley in the foreground.

Whitney Straight was an outstanding personality at Cambridge. He never bragged, but — dammit! — he never needed to because he was top of everything. This madly good looking young American millionaire sailed through all his activities with honours; he was a first class skier, a skilled fisherman, and ace photographer. Artistic in every respect, he was an excellent painter in oils and water colours and he was an accomplished saxophonist and cellist, equally at home with the classics or Jazz. It was no surprise that he took to flying and fast motoring with ease and accomplishment. At Cambridge he flirted with all these activities and could have built a career in any of them. Motor racing was his first choice, and when the decision was made he ducked his last year at Cambridge and set up his own company, Whitney Straight Ltd. He wanted the best of everything,

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Whitney Straight in the 2.5-litre Maserati at Shelsley Walsh.

and was in a position to have it. He had an elegant office in Bush House which was a new prestigious office block in the Strand, and a superbly equipped workshop in Milan to service his three Grand Prix Maseratis. His team of drivers, engineers and mechanics were the best men available; in the team were Hugh Hamilton, Buddy Fetherstonhaugh and, quite unofficially, because of family problems, Dick Seaman, with the ex-Straight MG Magnette. James Robertson Justice, the well known actor, who had been at On the line.

Cambridge with Whitney, often acted as Team Manager. The engineering team under Giulio Ramponi included Stan Holgate,

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Above In the Esses.

Whitney high on the Members Banking in a Mountain Handicap having been passed by Lord Howe in his Type 51 Bugatti, Howe had taken a tighter line on the Top Corner.

Monaco 1935. Lord Howe and

Whitney Straight in their 2.9 Maseratis at the Tabac Corner.

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The sprint 2.9 Maserati with twin rear wheels for hill climbing.

Below. Whitney in the Maserati at Mont

Ventoux,

1934. Below, right. Monaco. Straight leaving the Tabac Corner.

Billy Rockell, Raymond England, Tony Birch and Jock Finlayson. A girlfriend of Whitney’s from Cambridge, Psyche Altham, a very attractive blonde who was a doctor’s daughter, occasionally drove the Magnette at Brooklands and had one drive at Shelsley Walsh. Talking motor racing with Whitney was always interesting, like talking with Denis Jenkinson today, he had such a positive attitude. He understood and appreciated the British amateur enthusiast in the happy-go-lucky club sport; chaps who raced their everyday sports cars and others who bought second-hand racers to run for a few seasons. He was not so understanding, though, about

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The Straight Maserati almost dwarfed by the landscape at the Gas Works Turn at Monaco. Note the crowd!

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The Grand Prix model Maserati rebuilt for Biondetti as a sports car.

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WE those who raced seriously in the principal European events year after year without any real hope of winning. Of several well known drivers, he said he just could not understand why they carried on. He said that if for any reason he found he was not winning, then he would give it up and do something else. Whitney and I were exactly the same age. I remember him

telling me in 1934 that, as I had been involved for several years already, it was high time I got started driving in the big races. He reckoned that neither of us would want to go on beyond the age of 30. At that time we were both 22. I reminded him of Lord Howe who was about 45 and I well remember his reply. Whitney said, “‘He is the exception that proves the rule’. I told him that I intended to go on for ever and he laughed. That was more than 50 years ago and, of course, I’m still at it.

Whitney did more racing on the Continent than in England. He was really only interested in Grands Prix where he could battle with the best, but he did like speed Hill Climbs including our own Shelsley Walsh. He fitted in very well with the Bugatti, Alfa-Romeo and Maserati works’ drivers. I only saw a few of Whitney’s Continental Grands Prix, because his period coincided with the start of ERAs in the voiturette class. When I was able to see him performing against the top conductors I was thrilled to see that he was right up with the best of them, faster than any other Maserati driver, except Nuvolari. He was, as a rule, faster than the works Bugattis which

were going through a rather sticky time; the 3.3-litre Type 59s, which I loved, were a bit dated design-wise. At one of the BARC meetings at Brooklands I went down with Whitney’s young brother Michael in his Railton tourer. Michael was fair haired, good looking like Whitney, quite a good driver, quite interested in racing, but not dedicated like his brother. We decided to watch one of the Mountain Races from the Fork, so Whitney has just overtaken this Monza on the approach to the Gas Works Turn.

Michael drove us down the Aerodrome road from the Paddock. There was a large patch of loose cinders in the area opposite the Fork, upon which Michael proceeded to spin the Railton through 90 degrees with a handbrake turn causing a great cloud of dust. Lord Howe happened to be standing close by: he just turned and looked. Michael didn’t even notice and probably didn’t know who he was. Though it wasn’t anything to do with me really, I felt embarrassed and would have liked to have assured Lord Howe that I was not in favour of such antics. I was so terribly anxious to do the right thing; my bible was the code of S.C.H. Davis, the BRDC and the BARC. A few minutes later a Grand Prix Bugatti appeared in our direction from the Paddock, driven by Charlie Martin with Charles Brackenbury as passenger. Charlie did exactly the same with an even bigger skid and bigger cloud of dust. They roared with laughter and joined Lord Howe at the railings. They didn’t give a damn. I guess I envied them their sang-froid, but, at any rate, it made me think — there was a lesson there for me, but I don’t think I ever learned it.

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Whitney bought a special car for the outer circuit, the very fast Duesenberg which Count Trossi had driven in Italy. It was very slim and bright red. I watched from the Members Bridge when Whitney attempted the lap record. He kept surprisingly low on the banking but it was obviously very twitchy. He was about three miles an hour slower than John Cobb’s 140.93mph. I think it was a very brave show. Roy Nockolds painted a fine picture of the attempt, which I now have. When Roy asked Whitney if it was right, Whitney replied, ‘‘No, it is not right, you have shown the car pointing straight ahead — it was never straight, it was sideways all the time!

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Above. The Duesenberg, Whitney Straight’s Outer Circuit car. Above, right. Norman Freeman of Dunlop and John Cobb talking to Whitney in the Duesenberg before his attempt at the lap record at Brooklands.

Lining up on the finishing straight before a race. L to R,

the front of John Cobb’s Monza Alfa-Romeo, Oliver

Bertram in the 10!/2-litre

Delage, the Duesenberg with Billy Rockell pushing at the front, and the George Abeccasis Alta.

At that time I first met Leslie Ballamy; a great character, short, stocky and with an unruly mop of hair; he was a very forward-thinking engineer, who was always dreaming up new ideas.

I had heard of him in connection with superchargers, but he had developed his own independent front suspension which was being

ey MM 1 My photograph of Whitney attempting the lap record. Note how low down he kept on the Members Banking.

used in various trials specials. He was now producing this IFS for Ford V8s. Whitney Straight and Dick Seaman borrowed one of Leslie’s Ford V8 Saloons with LMB suspension. They liked it so much that each of them bought new Fords, and Leslie converted their front suspensions. Over the years I saw a lot of Leslie and he proved to be a great companion. His views on nearly everything were different, new and often outrageous. He let me drive his cars,

George Simmonds driving his LMB Special at Prescott.

often tempting me to corner faster and faster to prove that his suspension and steering theories could withstand the most savage cornering. His first Special was Austin 7-based and called the ‘Ellembee’; later he ran a Ford Special, both, of course, used his own special suspension. Sir Malcolm Campbell had his own Lincoln Mercury converted to LMB suspension and was very pleased with the result. All Allards had LMB front suspension and I think that more than anything else, this made them the star performers in trials. I remember Guy Warburton and Sydney Allard storming up impossible gradients, and I noted that the front wheels made contact with the ground where others had no steering at all.

Leslie Ballamy driving his Ford Special at Dancers End. Note the Alfa-Romeo connection!

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The LMB conversions of a 3-litre Bentley and a Type 32 Bugatti were bold experiments — only Leslie Ballamy would dare to do such things. In the thirties there was no fetish about originality, but even in those days there were purists who blanched! LAS HEE

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LMB conversion of a 3-litre Bentley.

Above, right. LMB conversion of a Type 37 Bugatti.

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Since my first illegal trespassing at Donington Park in 1932, Y had been to several good race meetings there, but had never

driven round the circuit since it had been widened for cars. Now I was going to Donington for the big race of 1934, the Nuffield

T+onhy. I arrived in a Brooklands Riley Nine, very early before the first practice session. This car had only an aero screen and there were white roundels for racing numbers, though as far as I knew it had never been raced. We had taken this in part exchange for another car, and it was in fairly good condition. Since it looked so much a racing car the gate man waved me into the Paddock and didn’t bother to see if I had a pass. Fine, so far! ERA had entered both the 1!/2-litre and the 1100ce cars for Ray and Humphrey, and they also entered the White Riley on behalf of T.A.S.O. Mathieson who was going to buy it for Chris Staniland to drive. I found their places in the Paddock but as they had not arrived I was able to put my Brooklands model in the place allocated to the White Riley. When Kenneth Evans with his MG was signalled out for practice I joined the line and had a wonderful time doing about half a dozen laps. I took very good care not to do anything silly, and did not get in the way of any other car, and when I came in I saw that-the Bourne contigent had arrived. This was my first real go at a proper road circuit, and that Brooklands Riley was a very suitable car. When Raymond Mays arrived he gave me a Paddock pass so I felt that I was part of the team. The Nuffield Trophy was another milestone for ERA. Ray ran through the 100 mile race without any trouble at all and scored another fine victory. Humphrey Cook in the 1100 was fifth. A week later, Ray in the two-litre model was second in the Mountain

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Start of the Mountain Championship. Apart from the Bugattis which include that of Lindsay Eccles, one can see Pat Driscoll in the little white Austin, Ray and Humphrey in the ERAs and Whitney in the Maserati, now black.

Championship to Whitney Straight’s 3-litre Maserati. Taso Mathieson decided not to buy the White Riley and the new owner turned out to be my friend John Hodge. This seemed promising, and I reckoned that there was a good chance of my getting a drive, but John became so involved with his love life that he gave up motor racing altogether. Then, between blondes as it were, he bought a string of polo ponies and pursued another sport. John’s motor racing had been a brave but somewhat reckless activity which he enjoyed to the full. I never saw his polo, but I understand that he played with the same bravery and often hilarious recklessness that seemed to colour the rest of his life. John, now Sir John Hodge Bt, retired to Suffolk, epitomized the well-heeled carefree amateur sportsman of the twenties and thirties. In today’s attitude to sport, I think we have lost something good, though, maybe not anything important, but when I look back on those days I believe that it was greater fun. Today’s sport is very important, too important and far too serious. The White Riley went to Kay Petre, so of course it was painted in Kay’s bright blue. With this car Kay was immediately successful taking the ladies record at Shelsley Wash and on the Mountain Circuit at Brooklands. Kay was, and still is a dynamic personality, petite and very attractive. Her conversation was always animated, punctuated with laughter and always full of questions. It’s not surprising that she was very popular. She was a very versatile driver, equally at home with big and small cars, rallies and hill climbs, long distance events and sprints. A lot of interesting things happened after the end of the European racing season. First of all, Whitney Straight was invited by Willy Walb, the Head of Auto-Union, to join the team in the following year. Whitney went over to Germany and tried one of the cars at their testing track. He only had a short run but said that he found it very interesting and felt that he could soon get the hang of coping with the rear engined racing car. However, after careful thought he decided that in no way could he consider driving for Germany, for Nazi Germany, as it was at that time.

CHAPTER

19 He realized that no other cars would stand a chance of winning a Grand Prix against the might of the German Mercedes and Auto-Unions, so he decided to retire from motor racing altogether. He did just one more race, the South African Grand Prix, which he won quite easily. It had a very varied field which included quite a lot of local sports cars and Whitney’s brother. Michael, was third in his Railton tourer. That was the end of Whitney Straight’s very short and meteoric racing career.

Before his last race, the South African big ie te poni.

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Back in England his engagement to Lady Daphne Finch-Hatton was announced. This : happened to : forge another link :

with me, because my mother’s family were old friends of the

Finch-Hattons. My mother and I attended the wedding, not really because of my motor racing connection with the groom but because

of my mother’s friendship with the bride’s family. ERA finished the season with successful attempts on the world’s standing kilometre record. Ray drove the 2-litre and on his first attempt recorded 89.73mph. On a second attempt, which was slower, wheel spin on the start line sent flying into the air the mat which had been placed under the wheels. The 1935 successes are so well documented that I will not recount them all. We started the season well with Humphrey scoring a fine win in the 1!/2-litre model in a Mountain Race at Brooklands. This was followed by the Inter-Varsity Speed Trials at Syston Park. Prior to the event I stayed at the Angel Hotel at Grantham so that I was able to help stake out the course the previous night. When Humphrey arrived at the Park I was allowed to warm up the ERA ~— the first time I actually sat in the cockpit with the engine running. The car was run up on the jack to warm the transmission, a proceeding which was always used because of the pre-selector gearbox. I see that I am using the personal pronoun in respect of ERAs; this is not really justified because I was not in the company and was only a helper, but as I have written before, I was made to

FL Lit (OE 6 feel part of the team — to my great delight. In the speed trial Humphrey’s getaways were magnificent, he had always been good at this sort of thing from his early Hill Climbs with his Vauxhalls. On this occasion I think that Humphrey in the ERA made even better starts than Oliver Bertram who made fastest time of the day in the big 10!/2-litre Delage. Humphrey won his class. The first big race at Brooklands in 1935 was the International Trophy. I thought we stood a good chance of winning, however the works cars and Pat Fairfield’s private ERA, which had been prepared at Bourne, all had trouble. In practice Luis Fontes blew up the engine of his MG so was without a car for the race. Thompson and Taylor, who had charge of his cars, suggested an alternative machine. They had for sale the Monza Alfa Romeo with which Brian Lewis had won that same race in 1933 and which was later owned by John Cobb. Fontes said

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John Cobb with the 2.3-litre Monza Alfa-Romeo in the paddock at Brooklands.

he would buy it if the JCC would accept his entry of the Alfa instead of his MG. After a meeting with the stewards, Bunny Dyer of the JCC told Luis that they would agree if he was prepared to race under the number 13. Number 13 was normally excluded from all motor racing events because of its unlucky connotations. The programme had already been printed and number 13 was in the right capacity class, but his old MG number was in another class of smaller

capacity cars. Luis said he was not superstitious and he was delighted to be able to enter the Alfa. He drove that car for the very first time in the final practice session and seemed quite happy with it, though it was a lot faster than his previous mounts. ERAs were going through a bad patch. All the cars had problems in practice and it was the same in the race itself. The sensation of the day was Luis Fontes. It all looked so casual; he didn’t wear racing overalls, just a golfing jacket and his flannel trousers tucked into his socks, and he wore nothing on his head but goggles. Ray was driving the 2-litre very well, and had the speed to win but his offside rear tyre punctured just after passing the pits; he had to do almost a full lap at slow speed before making a wheel change. When Rose-Richards took over the engine went sick.

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Fontes was right amongst the leaders all the time, and when Ray had his troubles Luis took the lead. I went out onto the circuit to do some filming; I think it was ‘Goldie’ Gardner who went with me, anyway it was someone very experienced and knowledgeable. We watched Luis at one of the chicanes. Braking very late, he slid into the corner, opened the throttle early, and twirling the wheel the other way with one rear wheel spinning furiously, he was through faster than anyone else. My companion said, ‘““That was wonderful but he won’t get away with that a second time’’. We stayed to watch and, dammit, he did the same thing every lap; quite fantastic! And he looked so calm and relaxed all the time. That was how Luis Fontes won the International Trophy. He was obviously a natural driver. After the race I could have joined Fontes and his friends at a celebration party but chose, instead, to go and commiserate with Peter and Ray, and it seems that I made the right choice — for me. I was told later that the Fontes party was a right booze up and Luis himself, tight as a tick, walked on a window ledge four storeys up with a girl on his shoulders. Of course, he got away with it, but I know that I would have been scared stiff. One of the snags of not liking drink very much is that one cannot really enjoy that sort of party. I just loved hearing about it afterwards, but had I been present I would have been fearful of some tragic accident — silly, I suppose, because it seems that nothing terrible happens on those occasions. In that International Trophy I encountered the 3.3-litre Bugattis with their piano wire wheels. When I told Lord Howe how much I liked the look of the cars he smiled and nodded his head in a knowing way. At the time I thought it was because he had an interest in the Bugatti that Brian Lewis was driving. Sometime later he told me that he was buying one himself, the one that René Dreyfus had driven in the Monaco Grand Prix the previous year. Apparently, Howe had a drive in that car at the time, presumably in one of the practice sessions or perhaps he just took it up the road. Now, I wonder how he knew that his car was the one that

Rene drove at Monaco, but perhaps the Bugatti Works kept a log

LLM SEE of all the cars. When I asked Brian Lewis, Lindsay Eccles and Charlie Martin about the history of their 3.3s they had no idea which drivers had used their cars. We had all seen how the German Mercedes and Auto-Unions were able to steam away from rest or from corners without excess wheel spin by using limited-slip differentials. Now we had a new ZF limited-slip differential which was being fitted into Ray’s car. It had been promised for a long time. As soon as Peter said it was okay Ray decided to take the car out on the road He phoned the friendly police sergeant, who said he would be looking the other way but asked us to use trade plates and those ‘sort of wings. Ray’s mechanic, Ken Richardson, warmed up the ERA and hung the plates on. No one could find those sacking wings which we uséd to stretch between batons over the front and rear wheels so it was decided to chance it without them. We pushed Peter off in the ERA whilst Ken and I hopped into the Bentley with Ray. Peter stopped at the turning for Stamford and Ray took his place at the wheel of the ERA wearing his beret and goggles. We pushed and pushed but the damn thing wouldn’t start now, though it had started straight away when we pushed Peter out of the works. We had forgotten to bring some rope so Ken went back in the Bentley to find some whilst Peter and I stayed with Ray and the ERA. I recall that, though several cars passed while we were waiting, no one stopped or was apparently interested in the fact that there was a genuine racing car by the side of the road! When the tow rope arrived, we hitched up and the ERA

fired

immediately. Ray disappeared into the distance with that lovely sharp ERA exhaust note. We never bothered with a silencer. Following in the Bentley we saw Ray was stopped at Toft. He did a number of standing starts which were terrific — two long black tyre marks every time. Then he made some more standing starts with the nearside wheel on the grass verge which showed that the limited slip differential was working well. A lady came out of a cottage and was obviously a bit put _ out, not only because of the noise but also because of the deep ruts in the grass verge. Peter went over and smiled his way over the problem, a few words of conversation and she was laughing with Peter — the P.B. charm had worked as ever. Back to the works and arrangements were made with Percy Bradley for a proper test at Brooklands on the Mountain Circuit. This time, of course, the

ERA came in the van. It had been raining at Brooklands so there were damp patches, but no other people were testing so we had the track to ourselves for the afternoon. The car and driver seemed on good form but we were not happy with the times. It made wonderful getaways from rest, but Ray said he found difficulty with the corners, particularly the top corner under the Members Bridge. The car wanted to go straight on and Ray had to put on much more lock. I watched from the Bridge while Peter went down to the Fork. To me it looked wonderful, just

like Nuvolari: turning the front wheels sharply into the corner,

Type 59 Bugatti and Grand Prix Auto Union at Monaco.

While sliding out. We now know this characteristic as chronic understeer — but the term was not in use then. Peter tried more

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9

pressure in the front tyres and that did make it a bit better but it was some time before Ray got used to the different feel of cornering with the power turned on with the limited slip differential. Further tests were made with 18 inch wheels, first of all with

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old-pattern Dunlop tyres. This really seemed promising so two new sets of the latest pattern Dunlop racing tyres were obtained. With much less rubber on the road on the front with the narrower 18 inch tyres than was obtained with the 16 inch wheels, the general balance of cornering was improved. This was so noticeable that 18 inch wheels were tried on Pat Fairfield’s 1100. Ray and Pat tested them at Donington on both cars and it was decided that they would use them experimentally in future races. They tried different shock absorber settings and tyre pressures as well. The final decision was taken to use the larger 18 inch wheels and narrow section tyres on the front whether or not a limited slip differential was used. Exit the original roller skate appearance, and gradually all the private owners changed their front ends in line with the works. The norm became 16 inch on the back and 18 inch on the front. Both the Dunlop technicians and Reid Railton were surprised because they had been convinced that the little wheels and big tyres all round was the answer. I was rather sorry about the change because I had got used to the characteristic roller skate appearance. The next event for ERA was another Shelsley Walsh. It was one of the most memorable and happy days for me: perfect weather, the open-road joys of my Invicta, great company — I brought with me a new and very glamourous blonde — and, to cap it all, tremendous success for the ERAs and Raymond Mays. He drove the 1!/2-litre and 2-litre models and won with both, gaining a new 1!/2-litre record and a new record for the Hill with the 2-litre at 39.6 seconds. Seeing Malcolm Campbell competing again was pleasant, and on this occasion he ran the beautiful 4-litre V12 Sunbeam. He drove splendidly with great verve and he and Ray got on very well encouraging one another all the time.

The Sunbeam was very powerful and, despite twin rear wheels, Malcolm had great difficulty keeping it straight. At that time I think nothing else had quite as much urge, but the problem was how to get that power on to the road. Though it had a new frame, the basic chassis design was dated and the Sunbeam was never quite as quick as the less powerful ERA. At Shelsley we were a big party and we were joined by Leslie Wilson, the Secretary of the MAC. At dinner afterwards at The Abbey Hotel at Malvern we virtually took over the band. One of Ray’s friends played the piano and sang with such charm that everyone enjoyed it, including the other hotel guests and the management. Humphrey and Madge Cook sat with Ray and his mother. There were three or four young men who were friends of Peter and Ray, Pingo Lester, the Squadron Leader from RAF Duxford, Peter Berthon’s wife Lorna and several more people as well as my girlfriend and me. Though Ray was the star of the show, he carried his stardom with becoming modesty and made all of us feel that it was

FL Li EE really our show and that ERAs were our cars. Our next engagements were the two Mannin races in the Isle

of Man, where the first ERA had been in practice the previous year. Peter Berthon had been experimenting with a big single-vane supercharger, the Zoller. This blew at a much higher pressure but lacked power at low revs but Berthon had great confidence that it could be used to advantage. He persuaded Ray to use a Zoller-Blown 1100cc model for the Mannin Beg. Ray reckoned that he could win that race quite easily with the ordinary 1100 ERA with Murray Jamieson’s Rootes-type blower, but realized that he had the responsibility of using the experimental model instead. ERA’s first private customer, Pat Fairfield, was going to drive his 1100 in that race. The principal opposition was from Freddie Dixon in his unsupercharged 1!/2-litre Riley. However, the ERAs were considerably faster than the Riley. Ray was leading when suddenly an oil pipe burst and the engine tightened up so he switched off.

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This was just plain bad luck: we thought that the car might not last the race, but did not expect an oil pipe fracture. Pat Fairfield drove a splendid race and scored a very popular victory. With two private entrants — Pat Fairfield, and now Dick Seaman — running their own ERAs prepared by the works, there was more and different pressure on the personnel at Bourne. I got to know Pat Fairfield very well and found him one of the nicest people. He and his wife fitted in very well indeed with the ERA set-up at Bourne. Pat was a very relaxed personality, who never worried and always seemed happy. Whether we were winning or losing or whether his car was ready or late, he had the same cheerful disposition. He was very English, with no trace of a South African accent, despite having lived most of his life in that country. He and Peter Berthon became great friends. They were the unflappable ones, relaxed and optimisitc, while Ray was worried and tense, chain smoking all the time. Humphrey tried to hide his feelings as much as possible, was usually optimistic but if things went wrong he could be utterly despondent. Historians recall that Fairfield’s nickname had been ‘Skidder when he drove for Freddie Dixon in the Rileys. I do not remember that at all and I thought him a very steady driver when with ERAs, both in his own 1100cc model and when he drove a 1!/2-litre in the works team. It has been suggested that ERA always arranged for the

>)

works cars, particularly Raymond Mays’, to be faster than those sold to the private entrants. This was not so, though, of course, any

new experimental model was likely to be faster than the standard model and, quite rightly, only well-proved models could be sold to private owners. In this way, in many cases, the private owners stood a better chance of winning than Ray’s new experimental machines. The Zoller supercharger was a case in point and it was quite a time before it was sufficiently developed to be a reliable winner. The Mannin Moar race for the over 1!/2-litre cars gave Ray and Humphrey another chance to race against the Continental Grand Prix cars. This time the 3.3 Bugattis were invincible and Brian Lewis scored his third successive Mannin Moar victory — first

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19

with the Monza, secondly with the Monoposto and now with the 3.3 Bugatti. Ray, with the 2-litre ERA had a great dice with Luis Fontes with that old Monza — the very car with which Brian won that race two years earlier. Observing the cars on one of the corners, it was obvious to me that the Alfa held the road better than the ERA, and the power could be put down earlier. However, the 2-litre ERA seemed to be able to pull away from the Alfa as

soon as it was straight. Lying third in the race, beating much of the Continental opposition, Ray was very unlucky to have the transmission fail on the last lap. When it was all over, Peter and I went to collect the ERA to

bring it back to the garage. Peter borrowed a hired Ford which also broke its transmission straight away. Then a third car, a Le Mans Singer Nine, with Pat Fairfield as the passenger endeavoured to tow both cars together — the Singer immediately burnt out its clutch. We all fell about laughing, and a bevy of schoolboys, who came by with their master, was persuaded to push the whole outfit back to the garage. When we got back, Ray was thanking the master for his

help and I could see Peter Berthon laughing at Pat Fairfield, who

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was distributing cigarettes to the schoolboys from his case. That was typical of Pat, and, of course, the boys thought he was wonderful, treating them as equals. I think the master thought we were all mad. Of all the ERA appearances up to that time, their performance in the Eifelrennen on the Nurburgring was, I think, the most important. The race was a well established major voiturette event, taking place before the main event which was the Eifel Grand Prix. In that race Caracciola won for Mercedes, but a newcomer to car racing, Bernd Rosemeyer, came second for Auto-Union and made the fastest lap. In the Eifelrennen the ERA works team was Mays, Cook and Rose-Richards, with Dick Seaman running his own car. Rose-Richards drove the original RIA but with a new engine fitted after the last Brooklands meeting. A newcomer to the Bourne équipe was Peter Berthon’s younger brother Paul. Looking very much like his older brother, Paul had the same relaxed manner and was an ideal passenger for Ray when he practised on the Nurburgring in his Bentley saloon. I think that Ray and Paul were the first pair to use a technique made famous many years later by Stirling Moss and Denis Jenkinson in the Mille Miglia. In practice, Ray used his Bentley for most of the time, saving the ERA for the race. The ring of 14 miles was famous, or for some people infamous, for the complexity of the corners and the extreme difficulty of remembering them. Paul used a notebook on his lap in the Bentley, and of the many corners of the circuit they reckoned a lot were more or less blind. That is to say that they gave no indication of the following direction. Paul, using his notes, was able to direct Ray where he could take the blind corners to his advantage. On that day, all the ERAs were on the front row of the grid. Ray made a magnificent start and led the field round the Sudkerve, and past the back of the pits on the first lap. All the other ERAs were just behind, leading the Maseratis, except Ruesch who was

7 hy ON

Raymond Mays with the ERA at Brooklands. On his right, Peter Berthon and on his far left, Peter’s younger brother, Paul.

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battling with Seaman just ahead of Rose-Richards. To see the British works ERAs leading the cream of the Continental opposition in such an important International Race in Germany was wonderful. Unlike most other circuits, which were

relatively short, the 14 mile ring meant that one saw the cars only infrequently. However, the loop beyond the start line brought the

cars past the pits twice each lap so that drivers could be given more information from the pit signals. In this respect it was like Monaco. Each lap we saw the pale green ERAs leading the red cars of Italy —a great sight. A group of British enthusiasts spectating round the course told us afterwards that Ruesch, in the fastest Maserati,

nearly caught the leading ERA each lap on the fast stretch beyond the Fludplatz. Others told me that Ray was the fastest driver round the Karussell, characteristically blipping all round the narrow banked ditch which formed the inside line of the corner. From the pits everything looked fine except that Ray was seen to be pumping up pressure in the fuel tank as he passed. That should not have been necessary if the automatic fuel pump was working properly. We learned afterwards that Ray had this trouble throughout the race, which made it hard work for him, and was

worrying as well. However, the race ended with a resounding ERA victory, with Raymond first, well clear of the second man, Hans Ruesch, in the fastest Maserati. Rose-Richards, Seaman and Cook were third, fourth and fifth.

This splendid British achievement hit the world’s headlines and the ERA became rightly regarded as the supreme voiturette. There was a rush of private orders which would take a long time to fulfil. Amongst the many congratulations, none were more welcome or sincere than those from the President of the BRDC, Pat Fairfield in his 1100cc

ERA.

Lord Howe.

For me, the greatest news was that he was ordering an ERA for himself, and hoping to have it ready for the beginning of the next season.

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The next race was the British Empire Trophy at Brooklands. All of us flushed with victory, believed that it would be a wonderful chance to demonstrate to the British public the ERA supremacy. The German Prince Zu Leiningen, who had been driving in the Auto-Union team, joined Ray and Humphrey with works 1!/2-litre ERAs.

I felt this was going to be a great race for us and I spent nearly all the week at Bourne and at Brooklands. Though all our cars went perfectly on an early unofficial run round the Mountain, they had continuous plug trouble when they ran on the special circuit devised for the Empire Trophy. A succession of very tight corners marked by straw bales made the plugs oil up on the over-run in second gear. First gear was just too low, and in any case the first gear band of the pre-selector gearbox would not last the race. Lodge and K.L.G. experts tried everything and they even tried some Continental plugs. Several other teams had similar problems; the K3 MGs were having exactly the same problem as us. Ray and George Eyston protested to the BRDC that the corners were too slow, but to no avail. Anyhow, the

Lote

unsupercharged cars had no trouble nor had the 750 cc Austins. Pat Fairfield, in his own ERA, found that the higher revs of the 1100cc engine kept the plugs cleaner, and his was the best ERA. The unblown Rileys of Freddie Dixon and Percy McClure had a fine race and were first and second. Zu Leiningen, who spoke perfect English, got on very well with the ERA team. It had been planned that he would join the team again for the German Grand Prix later in the season, but of course he was disappointed with the ERAs in the Empire Trophy and this was to be his only drive. Now, with two private owners racing ERAs I was seeing how strongly their personalities affected their racing and their relationship with the Company. Though I often saw Dick Seaman I never knew him well. He was a very private person who never sought popularity, publicity or fame. It seemed to me that he was not interested in what other people thought of him. There was no rapport between him and Raymond Mays. Sometimes both Dick Seaman and Pat Fairfield had

FL Lit (OE 5. LLILL KA

A very characteristic picture of Ray and Humphrey with Prince Von Leiningen just after they had been driving the ERAs round the Mountain

before official practice for the British Empire Trophy. None of them are wearing crash helmets.

Practice on the Campbell circuit. Ray in the cockpit is

talking to someone in the pits.

problems with their ERAs, when the cars were not ready and not right following works preparation. Dick was a very positive person, he never said very much but what he did say he meant and he did expect his car to be ready and right. Pat Fairfield on the other hand, was very forgiving and it was obvious that he did not like any unpleasantness. He loved the theatrical charm at Eastgate House, just as I did. This cut no ice at all with Dick Seaman. It was no surprise to me that Seaman took his ERA away from Bourne; nor was it surprising that when he set up his own organization it was extremely successful. Seaman was a brilliant driver and a clear thinking man; he knew what he wanted and was determined to get it. His great friend was George Monkhouse, another very clear thinking and positive person, with whom he had much in common in addition to an addiction to motor racing. Neither suffered fools at all gladly. I always found it amusing to listen to their conversation, a peculiar sort of shorthand conversation in which they referred to one another in the third person. George, a senior executive of the Kodak Company, later their Chief Engineer in England, was one of motor racing’s greatest photographers and the historian of Mercedes in Grand Prix racing between the wars. I owe him a great deal because he taught me how to use a cine camera, and, in fact, often lent me his own camera. He knew the motor racing world inside out and convinced me that one should use the simplest and lightest equipment enabling one to get around a circuit very quickly. His own films set a standard never surpassed. He was, and still is, an outstanding personality — extremely intelligent and articulate, he extolled the fully professional attitude of the German teams. Whatever activity Monkhouse

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CHAPTER eenaney” Seaeties:

DD indulged in, it had to be done with complete thoroughness and at the highest level, whether it was fishing, growing roses or chronicling and photographing motor racing.

In respect of motor racing George Monkhouse dealt with Grands Prix, not any other, lesser, type of racing, and with Mercedes, not with any lesser outfit. His views were forthright but were not universally popular in British motor racing circles in the mid-30s. He and his friend Dick Seaman saw how it was done by Mercedes and they looked for a similar attitude with the British teams. Another great friend of mine, Laurence Pomeroy Junior, son

of the famous Vauxhall designer, supported the Monkhouse/Seaman view. There was indeed a great gulf between the predominantly amateur, albeit well-heeled British teams and the completely professional and Government-backed German racing. Most of us secretly agreed that Monkhouse was right: we knew that Grand Prix racing would have to be developed that way, but, partly because of the growing hatred of Nazi Germany, we just did not want to know that the Mercedes and Auto-Unions were run in an exemplary way. I often talked with the ERA team about this. Humphrey was so completely British, he just didn’t want to know, and wouldn't even talk about the German teams. Ray was much nearer to the Monkhouse view, but in practice he was always the theatrical star, finally influenced by emotion rather than logic. The third privately owned ERA was R2B, ordered by Prince Chula of Siam for his cousin Prince Birabongse, always known as ‘B. Bira’. This car, ‘Romulus’ was to be the most consistently successful ERA ever, and in its very first race, the Dieppe Grand Prix, Bira was second to Pat Fairfield. Though I saw many of Bira’s races, I was always in a rival camp so there is nothing I can add to his story, so well chronicled by Chula.

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‘Bira’ sitting in his ERA outside its stall at Brooklands. Bending over talking to ‘Bira’ is Shura Rahm.

_ Every race seemed to indicate that the ERA was the most promising car of its size. Here, at last, was the British racing car which we all wanted to see. Voiturette racing was only one down

ST iit OE gp 5 from full Grand Prix, and ERA was all set to dominate it. The financial burden was on just one person, Humphrey Cook, though Raymond Mays and Peter Berthon were giving their all to the project. I felt as though I would lay down my life for ERAs and I seriously considered what could be done to further the project.

Talking with other like-minded enthusiasts I concluded that if some sort of organization could be set up to assist — perhaps an ERA Club — one could safely count on quite a lot of help. I talked to Ray about this and suggested that I might be able to organize an

official club. I felt that if we called it a Supporters Club it might become too juvenile and too like a film star’s fan club. Ray told me that already some young man had suggested a fan club, but I had in mind a serious attempt to raise enough money to supplement Humphrey Cook’s financing. I said that at least a proper Club could give moral support, showing Humphrey Cook that there was a substantial number of enthusiasts really caring. Ray was enthusiastic so I went to see Sammy Davis, feeling that he was the best man to know the feelings of the average enthusiast. Sammy warned me that to get anything like this off the ground in England would be very difficult. Unfortunately, it seemed that most enthusiasts were only interested in driving themselves, and few were prepared to work for the sport. Nevertheless, he said that he liked the idea and if I was prepared to have a go he would give it his backing. Humphrey was away on holiday but I had another talk with Ray and Peter and we agreed that I should set it all out in writing and make a definite proposal to the Board of ERA. By now I was convinced that an ERA Club should be formed to give every support to the Company, and, if necessary, I was prepared to run it. I wrote a long letter addressed to the Directors of ERA setting out my suggestion. Two days later I received a telephone call from Ray who told me that by a strange coincidence he had received, by the same post, a somewhat similar proposition for a Supporters Club from

TT77 IT

two quite unknown enthusiasts, S.H. Green and J. Hawke, who

lived in South London. A meeting was called at the works at Bourne when we would all meet and discuss the project. I came early to have lunch with Ray and Peter before the meeting. Humphrey came over in his 4!/2-litre Bentley and after lunch another car arrived carrying Sam Green and Jack Hawke,

and also Bertie Browning, who was well known in connection with the organization of the British Contingent of the Monte Carlo Rally. Browning came at the invitation of Sam Green and Jack Hawke because they knew of his experience. ’ We congregated in Peter’s drawing office and soon found that our ideas were quite compatible. Sam was in business in South London but was planning to become a publican at an hostelry in the Croydon area. Jack Hawke was of private means and had no commercial commitments. Their original proposal was that the organization would be called ‘The ERA Supporters Club’ with an annual subscription of ten shillings. They considered that the main support would come from the public enclosure at race meetings and from the readers of the motoring press who were not yet close to

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the racing scene. My idea was that it would be called ‘The ERA Club’ with a subscription of £2. I thought that the main support would come from members of the Brooklands Automobile Racing Club and other competitors. Our general aims were the same as was our proposed modus operandi. the publication of a regular bulletin, talks, visits to the works, etc.

SS

It was a good meeting, we got on well and learned from one another. It was agreed that Ray, Peter and Humphrey could not be club members because they would be recipients of the funds. Sam, Jack and I would attempt to form a Club, Bertie Browning would merely join and give advice. We happily compromised on our plans and it was agreed that I should find a central venue for an inaugural meeting, notify the motoring press and recommend the foundation of “The ERA Club’, with an annual subscription of £1. Sammy Davis and the rest of the motoring press gave us very good publicity and about forty people turned up at Paganis Restaurant in Great Portland Street on January 18th 1936. A rather nervous twenty-three-year-old R.F. took the chair. To my surprise it all went quite smoothly and cheerfully, and the ERA Club was formed. I was appointed secretary, Sam Green assistant secretary and my ex-fiancée Kitty Flanagan, treasurer, and we enrolled our first thirty members. Peter Berthon came along with his wife Lorna, a very attractive and slim girl with a pronounced foreign accent. Peter made a short and enthusiastic little speech in appreciation of the project and promised that he and the other directors would endeavour to give all the help they could. So — another part of the dream was coming true; life was full of promise and excitement ... The idea of forming the ERA Club, all the meetings at Bourne and in London, the starting of the Club itself and its initial management took place during the winter of 1935/36. At that time my employers, the London Car Exchange and the parent company the MPA, moved from their premises in Conduit Street to Grosvenor Gardens in Westminster. My immediate boss, Denis Burton, with whom I had worked very happily both at the LCE and previously at Bentleys, left to join the Board of Directors of a group of London Garages. I was very sorry about this and it placed me in a rather difficult situation. I could have taken on more responsibility for the administration of the London Car Exchange with a small increase in salary. That would have meant my being in the office practically all the time. Obviously this would have prevented me from spending much time at Brooklands or at ERA at Bourne. At a meeting with Mr Hodgson, the Chairman of the parent company, I was offered an alternative arrangement whereby I would take a cut in my salary and a small increase in commission on sales. This would enable me to devote the extra time to the ERA Club. My father very strongly advised me against the latter arrangement. He confidently predicted that my addiction to motor racing would be my ruin and it would prevent me from ever making a decent living. He disapproved of my friends in the world

my MUA Ty _ of motor racing and the stage. Raymond Mays came into both categories because of his close friendship with Ivor Novello, Zena and Phyllis Dare and other stage stars. Well — despite the warning I, of course, decided on the alternative plan with a smaller salary and more commission. Actually to my surprise the first couple of months on the new plan proved quite lucrative as I sold a couple of quite expensive cars. After that I was considerably poorer — in monetary terms — but miles richer on every other count. In our world of motor racing nothing like the ERA Club had ever been tried before. Just as Sammy Davis predicted, I found it was very difficult to make much progress with membership. The vast majority of enthusiasts were in the game for their own personal enjoyment, but among my friends, old and new, a reasonable number rallied to the cause. I was proved wrong in thinking that the majority of our membership would come from the BARC. Sam Green and Jack Hawke were right, most of the members came from the public enclosure and readers of the motoring journals who were not already close to the racing scene. However, within a few weeks we had sixty members and they came from every walk of life. At the time of the start of the ERA Club my personal private car was a rather odd specimen. Looking back on it. I am not very proud of ‘The Rover Fletcher Special’ of 1935. I had the opportunity to buy a 1932 10-25 Rover with a Carbodies sports two-seater body — minus engine. At the same time I came across a later type Rover engine that had been considerably uprated for competition. Both the Carbodies Rover and the Special engine were available to me at a very attractive figure. I bought them and in due course the resulting special proved a very reliable and economical vehicle which was in fact quite nice to drive. However, my Rover Fletcher Special was never a real sports car. My friends had decent thoroughbred cars, mostly three-litre Bentleys and 12/50 Alvises. I was very conscious that mine was only a pseudo sports car. However, it was such a useful and practical car that I kept it for quite a long time.

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I must have been riding, but cars were still my first love, even if the Rover Fletcher Special was not quite ‘the thing’.

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iii)

Over the next few years nearly all my motor racing activities centred on ERA and I continued doing some drawings for Berthon. My sales efforts for the LCE eventually suffered but lucky as my circle of friends was widening and from time to I was able to introduce a certain amount of useful business. As it grew, the ERA Club proved a very happy ship. Amongst the committee and officers of the Club we had very different tastes and lifestyles, but all were united in our aims and enthusiasm. As the Club’s original instigator and first secretary, the major workload and responsibility were mine. Most of my mistakes were made because of my youth, inexperience and over-enthusiasm. I started to arrange and call meetings without any regard to ‘opening hours’. I just did not realise that other chaps liked to meet at pubs so that they could have a noggin. Sam Green, Jack Hawke and their cronies soon put me wise on that score. Some of our members were only schoolboys; one from Eton, A.P. Rolt, was a were Peter I was time

founder member, another, P.A. Turner, was editing a school

magazine so I persuaded him to edit the ERA Club bulletin. He made a splendid job of it and called it Hearsay. My Kitty was a very popular treasurer and she found it most enjoyable being a girl in amongst so many males. Inevitably I spent more and more time with ERAs: at the works at Bourne, at Ray’s home, Eastgate

House, next door, and sometimes in Humphrey Cook’s London House! The setup was so different from anything that I had known before. Though Humphrey Cook was the Chairman of the Company there was no doubt at all that Raymond Mays was the leading light in the project. Life at ERA at Bourne or wherever they were racing revolved around Ray; he was the star personality, he knew it and everyone accepted it. He was very like one of his great friends in the theatre — Ivor Novello. They were both surrounded by their devoted friends, each was adored by his

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mother, both were spoiled by countless friends and relatives, and

both were rightly loved for their kindness, generosity, honesty and burning enthusiasm. Tall, handsome and distinguished he was always immaculately dressed in pale blue silk shirt and tie, whether he was in sports clothes or a city suit. His manners were exquisite. Just like that of many of his close friends in the theatre, Ray’s conversation was stylized using extravagant phraseology, — Darlings, Dearests, and Duckies were Fantastic, Terrific, Wizard. There was, however, above everything else, one single attribute — Ray had style. His close friends, those of both sexes who shared his confidence, were all ‘special’ to him. His friends were always right and he would back them absolutely to the hilt, quite regardless of whether they were in fact right or wrong. This facet of his

friendship could be embarrassing because most of us are not able to return such unswerving and sometimes unreasonable loyalty. Peter Berthon, of medium height and rather stocky build, was quite incredibly good looking. He was able to charm the birds out of the trees — any bird out of any tree — and he often did so. He shared Ray’s extravagant phraseology but not quite to the same

extent. He was very quick witted and his repartee, particularly with

ey MUM "Ty Ray, was most amusing. Eastgate House was a Georgian family residence owned by the Mays family for three generations. In Ray’s youth there had been a reasonable amount of garden which included a tennis court, an orchard, ample stabling and garages for half a dozen cars. By 1935 the new premises of ERA were reducing the garden considerably. The orchard had gone and some of the stables were already being used for the new project. Ray’s private secretary had an office in Eastgate House, and Peter Berthon did a lot of drawing in the room that he used when he had been domiciled there. Now Peter and his wife Lorna together with their infant girl, Jacqueline, lived in a small modern house on the outskirts of Stamford. Indeed, it was impossible to separate the private lives of Ray and Peter from the business life at ERA. They were completely entwined as to time, place and emotions. Peter’s timetable was quite impossible. He was usually late for appointments but this did not worry him, and in fact nothing seemed to worry Peter. His calmness and his unruffled confidence that everything would be all right were a splendid antidote to Ray’s continuous anxiety. His wife Lorna was a sparkling personality; she was outspoken and often outrageous with a mischievous wit that made her the centre of attraction. Lorna’s opinions and utterances on people and happenings were more amusing and exciting than anyone else’s. If their truthfulness was not always as exact as required by a court of appeal, so what! I have always considered that ‘the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth’ is greatly overrated. I much prefer ‘the truth, some of the truth and some thing very like the truth’. Then there was Ray’s mother — the awesome Anne Mays. ‘The Dowager Duchess of Eastgate House’, Mam to Ray, she ruled, but she ruled benevolently. Placed on a pedestal by her son, she was spoiled, waited upon and respected like the royalty she obviously believed she was. That was the hierarchy of Eastgate House, the whole attended by a bevy of maiden aunts, a housekeeper, a private secretary, a cook, two housemaids, a ‘tweeny’, and a couple of gardeners. In the works with Peter was Aubrey Barratt who had come from Daimlers to help with the design of the White Riley, and very often Murray Jamieson who worked as a consultant. The engineering staff and mechanics included Charlie Newcombe, who

had been with Whitney Straight, Percy Pugh, who had been Humphrey’s personal mechanic, John Lea, the Grey brothers who built the bodies, Buckle, and some others. The establishment was growing all the time as ERA was building cars for private owners as well as for the works team. I was in no sense an employee of ERA Ltd., only doing some drawing work for Peter, and sometimes going to see a company for Ray. I was paid my expenses plus and had some worthwhile perks. I just loved every minute of those times. Ray, his mother, Peter and Lorna made me feel so much part of the team. I suppose that was the charm of the situation. In a way I could see that

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5 Humphrey, too, was enchanted with the setup. He was not really like Ray and Peter, except for the enthusiasm for the cars and motor racing. But they brought him into everything — the theatre parties, the jokes, the extravagant praise — and he obviously loved it. They brought him out and he blossomed with them. I was seeing another way of going motor racing. First of all I had seen Malcolm Campbell and Earl Howe with their private equipes, then Bentley Motors which was a strange mix of a professional works team and Woolf Barnato’s wealthy racing friends. Then there were two extremes: John Hodge and his lighthearted amateur racing and Whitney Straight’s very professional but still private well-heeled, racing team. Now I was seeing ERA Ltd; an exciting setup built round a star personality who had the drive, enthusiasm and charm to get it started and keep it going. Not everyone started very early in the morning, because Peter’s example in that respect was appalling, but everyone, including Peter, worked all night if necessary. Everyone cared, the enthusiasm was terrific and the person who stoked it up was always Ray. When everyone was dog tired and had had no sleep and no proper meals, Ray somehow kept their spirits up. It was almost a full time job sweeping up his fag ends, because he chain smoked all the time. He gave fulsome praise to the staff, and by many little thoughtful gestures and kindnesses, made every job and every person seem vitally important. Ray was keen to produce a sports version of the ERA which could be marketed. He and Humphrey considered that such a car should be able to help finance the racing cars. Victor Riley was interested and said that the Riley Company would probably be prepared to market a Riley-ERA if it could be produced at a reasonable price. Rileys already had a suitable sports two-seater on their 11/2-litre six-cylinder chassis — the MPH. At a meeting at Coventry it was decided that the second prototype MPH, registered KV 6079, which was being used by Percy Riley, would be loaned to ERA for a time.

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Three-quarter rear view of the Riley MPH into which the ERA engine was later fitted.

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I saw this car at Bourne and learned that Percy Riley had explained that, though it was almost to the final specification, there were a few items not quite right. The brake linings were far too hard and old type fuel and water caps were fitted pending the supply of new quick-action caps. Ray and Peter had tried the car, which looked most attractive, rather in the Italian Alfa Romeo idiom. This example had the larger, 1633cc, engine and the Wilson pre-selector gearbox. Victor Riley said that most of the production models would have the competition engine of 1458cc which would put the car in Class F for racing, and it would have a close-ratio sliding pinion gearbox. In fact this did not come about and nearly all of the subsequent production models had the larger engine and pre-selector gearbox. The car was rather expensively priced at £550.

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Jack Crowther driving his Riley MPH in a Bugatti Owner’s Club sprint. This was one of the few MPH models with the 1458cc engine.

Sadly, neither Ray nor Peter was very enthusiastic about its performance. They said it was not very fast, not nearly fast enough for its rakish appearance. Peter reckoned that it would be quite easy to fit an unsupercharged ERA engine, say of 2-litre capacity, but he considered that it would not be a sensible proposition. The ERA engine was designed for a supercharger and there was clearly no room for it with the blower in position on the MPH so it would have to be unsupercharged. The cost would be astronomic, almost doubling the price of the existing MPH, and there would be only a slight improvement in the performance. I asked permission to have a drive and I took Peter to Stamford and back. Even I was a bit disappointed though I was inclined to be enthusiastic because of its appearance. The car felt as though it was too heavy, which was odd because it was, in fact, a

very compact little car. But despite some misgivings I still hoped that a Riley-ERA MPH could be possible, and I made some drawings for Peter. On another run to Stamford Peter crashed it near Toft, but there was only superficial damage. This was the first of many road accidents suffered by Peter Berthon, he was certainly accident prone. His driving always scared me stiff. On my next visit to Bourne a week later I found that they had installed the original 1!/2-litre ERA engine complete with its

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5 supercharger into the MPH. That meant repositioning the radiator about six inches forward. The bonnet was botched up with lengthened top and sides which quite spoiled its lines. It no longer looked sleek, but under the bonnet it was certainly the real thing. Actually, nothing was quite right because it was only a quick lash-up. Nevertheless, this could obviously be made into a most exciting sports car if it had a longer chassis. The chassis of the prototype MPH originally had been one of the works team cars for the Tourist Trophy and had been driven by George Eyston. It then had a 1486cc engine with a helical gearbox. Rileys were very good at this sort of thing, and racing models were often rebuilt into prototypes or one-off specials. Discovering such things and mentioning them at other departments at Foleshill could be rather dangerous. There seemed to be continuous warfare within the Riley family. Peter Berthon and I always dealt with V.R. direct, but we learned to be very wary about arrangements with other members of the family. Experimental, Drawing office, Racing, and Sales were not always on speaking terms. On one occasion when I was at Foleshill with Raymond Mays we were chatting to Percy Riley in his office. I started to tell Percy about a drive I had with one of the Riley Rally drivers, Dorothy Champney, in a works Imp. Ray kicked me under the table and then interrupted my story by raising another matter. I got the message, and afterwards Ray told me that Dorothy was V.R.’s girlfriend, and there was a blazing family row about her driving a works car on that occasion. Ray was always careful about such things, and he managed to be friends with everyone. Peter was much more apt to put his foot in it, and I was almost certain to wade in and kick it around without realizing. Anyway Dorothy Champney was a jolly good driver, and later was married to V.R. We wondered how Harry Rush, their Chief Designer, coped with all this dissension. He told us that one soon got used to it, and anyway it kept everyone on their toes. Despite all this, Kay Petre always said that the Riley racing team was her favourite équipe. To her they always seemed a happy family, in contrast to the family quarrels within the company. Anyway, it seemed to work quite well playing it their way. I went over to the Riley works at Coventry and they found us a one-off experimental frame that looked just the job for conversion to take the supercharged engine. The standard MPH chassis was only eight feet long with a track of 3 feet 113/4 inches. I cannot remember the exact dimensions of the experimental frame but I think it was about 9 inches longer and I know it had a wider track as was used in one of the larger Riley models. I made some drawings and got very excited about the project. However, nobody thought it would be a proposition, as the car would have to be priced at something like £2,000. On top of all that, it seemed to me that both Ray and Peter had become very saloon car minded, and they obviously thought that there was little future in open sports cars. When Ray suggested that they should fit the supercharged ERA engine into their Riley Kestrel saloon Peter was much more enthusiastic. So the MPH was

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brought back to standard and eventually returned to Coventry. Now the Kestrel was given the treatment and a proper lengthened bonnet was made up and when it was completed and painted I had to admit that the lines of the saloon car were not really spoiled.

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My drawing of the projected Riley-ERA with the longer chassis. The model was never produced.

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There was no further thought of a production Riley-ERA, but the one-off special Kestrel proved a wonderful car. Ray had just taken delivery of his first Derby Bentley, a black Park Ward saloon with pale blue upholstery and silver wheels, one of the most beautiful closed cars I had ever seen. So it was Peter Berthon who had most use of the Special Kestrel, and he certainly made the most of it. I only drove it once and only for a very short distance but I thought it was terrific. A bit hot and smelly and by no means quiet, but what a car! I was spending the best part of a day at Donington with Raymond Mays, Ken Richardson and two other mechanics. We were testing brakes and different tyres with one of the works ERAs. At the same time, Murray Jamieson and some of the Austin Works drivers and mechanics were testing the overhead camshaft racing Austins. When we completed our tests Ray and I went over and joined the Austin Team.

The works Austin on the line for a Mountain race at Brooklands. L to R, Pat Driscoll, Lord Howe, Bert Hadley when he was just a mechanic, another mechanic

and Murray Jamieson.

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I had already got to know one of their mechanics, a chubby little fellow who usually looked after Pat Driscoll’s car. It was he who usually warmed it up and drove it out onto the circuit from the Paddock. His name was Bert and he was obviously a great enthusiast. He told me that he had asked several times if he could have a real go and see if he was good enough to race for the works, but they had put him off a bit saying that they already had a full team of drivers, but perhaps one day they would give him a trial. On this sunny day at Donington, Murray Jamieson told Bert that he could have a go — but not to overdo it. They had two twin-cam cars already warmed up outside the pits. Bert was wearing his white mechanics overalls and Murray lent him a pair of goggles. They pushed him off saying that they would call him in after four or five laps. As soon as he disappeared from view. Murray put Pat Driscoll, their number one driver, into the other twin-cam and pushed him off telling him to catch Bert up but not to pass him and to see how he was driving.

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Bert Hadley leading an ERA

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In due course Bert came by at a good speed and some time later Driscoll came past. This continued for three or four laps with the same considerable distance between Bert and Pat Driscoll. Then Pat came slowly up to the pits shouting, ‘““Where is Bert, has he gone off somewhere?” Driscoll told us that he had been driving as fast as he could! On the next lap, Murray called Bert in. When he stopped he said that he had enjoyed it very much and was it all right? Could he have another go and see if he could go any faster? Murray told him he was quite good enough and he would put him in the team straight away. That was how Bert Hadley became a racing driver, and jolly good he was too — faster than anyone in the Austin Team and in demand for other teams as well. In the 1930s one-make clubs started to appear, and I soon had friends who devoted a lot of their time to clubs fostering their favourite makes. I was attracted to the clubs for Rileys, MGs, Bugattis and Bentleys -- but, then, I have never been a one-make man. My interest has always been spread across a lot of different

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makes, even during the years when my employment was centred

upon one. This is only one reason why I have never been a real expert on any make of car. One of the greatest motor clubs was formed in 1934, the Vintage Sports Car Club. It was started by enthusiasts who saw that mass production methods were lowering the standards of nearly all cars. Even sports cars were losing their most endearing qualities. Too many new sports cars were cheap and nasty and even names previously known for the quality and rightness of their products were making flashy pseudo-competition models. The VSCC was for pre-1931 sports cars, and I think that the most popular cars in the Club were 3-litre Bentleys, 30-98 Vauxhalls and 12-50 Alvises. The attitude of the Club was definitely against cars like Wolseley Hornets and the SS models. I understood and took the point, but my personal attitude was far less vehement. ‘Sam’ Clutton, who personifies the vintage sports club, driving the Itala at Prescott. This

photo was taken in 1939; today, the same Sam still drives this same Itala up the same hill!

A typical vintage Bentley 3-litre Speed model as they were usually seen in the late thirties, in the Paddock at

Brooklands. Note the non-standard folding windscreen and louvred apron over the dumb irons. The aluminium patch covered the place where the metal panel usually cracked.

One special series of sports cars, very acceptable to the VSCC, took my fancy strongly. H.M. Bentley and Partners restored and rebuilt a number of old Bentleys, mostly down-at-heel saloons. The rebuilding was meticulously done by a specialist company at Alperton. The cars were shortened and lowered and most had simple, light two-seater bodies. There were several 4!/2-litre models, two or three 3-litres and only two 6!/2-litre models. One of the last

My favourite Bentley, the H.M.Bentley rebuild short

chassis 61/2-litre, at a time when it was black.

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mentioned was one of the most attractive Bentleys ever produced. It was originally a Standard Six, the chassis of which was cut down to 10 feet in length. A straight-tooth 3:1 back axle was fitted and the two-seater body was fashioned in the style of a Mercedes SSK. The Merc. down times black

likeness was heightened by the car being painted white, even to a special white radiator badge. I drove this car several when it was first rebuilt and then later when it was painted and subsequently the inevitable green — my favourite Bentley. The second H.M. Bentley rebuilt 6!/2-litre was another car that I liked very much. It was on a longer chassis and, strangely, there was another Mercedes likeness, this time to the four-seater

Mercedes SS model. This car was specially built for Rabagliati, who had been one of the drivers injured in the Talbot accident in the Double Twelve at Brooklands in 1930. I drove Rabagliati’s Bentley from Maidenhead to London one wet morning, with the screen down, and I remember how I enjoyed it, with its surprisingly very good handling; a notable improvement on the standard production of four years previously. I got to know a very interesting character at Brooklands, Jack Driskell, who drove a lot of unusual little Continental cars like

the BNC. He used these cars in trials, rallies and sprint events, and then switched to Fords, at a time when not many Fords were used in competition. Jack used open V8s and a lightened and tuned open sports 8hp model. He was sort of in the trade, buying and selling sports cars in the Great Portland Street/Warren Street area during the summer time, and during the Winter he moved to the Mediterranean and lived a nomadic existence busking with his accordion.

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Driskell’s Ford Eight in a speed trial.

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Jack and I tested a lot of cars at Brooklands, and tried to be there with the right sort of car when the Mountain Circuit was in use. I found his open sports four-seater Ford V8 was great fun, but after three or four laps the brakes were almost non-existent. On one such occasion Fay Taylour was testing a ‘Monza’ Alfa Romeo. She was terrific, simply flinging the car round the track. Fay was perhaps not quite the best, nor quite the most reliable, lady driver; but on her day she was probably the fastest of the lot. I remember Fay racing that Monza in a Mountain Handicap. She was second, but after the flag she wouldn’t stop, she just went on and on, lap after lap, faster than ever, despite signals to stop.

It was rather foolish, but exciting because she seemed to be on the limit all the time. I suppose she was carried away. Eventually a brave official stood in the middle of the track with both of his hands up, and she came to a slithering standstill. She was severely reprimanded and excluded from the results. Need I say she was Irish? In my book anyway, she was a blooming good driver.

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Adrian Squire had joined Bentley Motors Limited as an apprentice about a year after me, but did not stay very long and went on to MG at Abingdon to take a job in their drawing office. After MG, he started his own garage business at Remenham, near Henley-on-Thames and there, he and Jock Manby-Colgrave produced their own sports car, the very attractive Squire.

The racing Squire as driven by Luis Fontes.

One day, Luis Fontes and I went over to Remenham Y LAVAS

to see

progress on a special racing edition which Luis had driven at Brooklands. It had blown up and was being rebuilt and modified. I had been promised a ride, but it was not ready. The works at

Remenham was very small but beautifully equipped and the Squire looked very promising. Adrian was a rabid enthusiast who lived cars, but they never fulfilled the promise they showed; they looked wonderful, but I am afraid that was all.

I have written so far about the big cars on the road in the thirties, because our Sales Department in the LCE had emerged from Bentleys and we tended to specialize in that market. Nevertheless, we sold quite a lot of small and medium sized cars as well. Because of their racing pedigree MGs tended to be better than the rival makes which had less, or sometimes no, competition

background. The Wolseley Hornet comes to mind as a make and model that sold well in sports form without any racing pedigree. The earliest Wolseley Hornet sports cars did not presume to be much more than rather sporty little tourers. When the ‘Special’ series started, some of the specialist coachbuilders went to town

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In a Bugatti Owners Club Speed Trial, an early Wolseley Hornet Sports. Note the dummy hub caps.

Above, right. In the same event, the later model Wolseley Hornet Special. This was the Eustace Watkins Daytona model, with knock-on hub caps and cycle-type front wings.

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with racing extras of which the Eustace Watkins Daytona Special model was perhaps the archetypical sports Hornet. Very well presented and lavishly equipped, it certainly looked the part, but, whilst Aston-Martin, Frazer-Nash and Riley for example, sometimes had quick action filler caps, bonnet straps and aero screens etc., because they needed them, Daytona Hornets always carried such things quite regardless of function, and inevitably they seemed to be ‘over-tarted’. The original 1932 model had cycle-type wings at the front, fastened to the brake drums and moving with the wheels. They looked rather pleasing but they restricted the steering lock and, of course, added to the unsprung weight. I think it was Bill Boddy who amusingly quoted ‘Persil white helmeted drivers in smoking cornets’, and I am afraid he was too right! It was a pity that so many such cars were overdone, because the Wolseley Hornet Special was very good value and could be made to go very fast. One could not expect a silk purse from a sow’s ear, and the Hornet was basically a modest little tourer. The chassis was a bit whippy and the car always seemed to be too light. Yet its very lightness was its greatest charm and the handling up to moderate speed was delightful. A team of only slightly modified Hornets won the LCC Relay Race in 1932, and the first time I ever saw Kay Petre she was driving one of those cars, and she loved it. At that time she was well known as an expert ice skater, not yet as a racing driver, but she said later that it was the sports Hornet that first attracted her to motor racing. Eustace Watkins also marketed a very attractive sports

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coupé and one of our LCE staff, Warwick Pett, had one of those

cars. Lord Howe tried it and said he was very tempted, but felt that somehow or other it really wasn’t the real thing. I knew just what he meant. The Lagonda Rapier, later called just a Rapier, was another interesting car of that period. This was the real thing all right, but it was a bit fussy. The Rapier always seemed to be revving too hard and despite its smoothness the high revs were a bit tiring. There was quality everywhere and something very thoroughbred about the design. The ENV pre-selector gearbox was operated by a long right-hand gearlever such as was used by the larger Lagondas.

Malcolm Campbell’s Lagonda Rapier. The Warwick Wright model with body built by Eagle Coachworks.

Roy Eccles raced a supercharged version very successfully and Malcolm Campbell had a lovely little lightweight ‘Warwick Wright’ Rapier with four Amal carburettors. He raved about that car for a week or two then seemed to forget about it and it was seldom used, but Campbell was inclined to be like that. Lord de Clifford had an even lighter edition of that same model for Le Mans. When it was being tested at Brooklands I was going to have a drive but I couldn’t reach the pedals. The seat was fixed and we couldn’t find an extra cushion so Brian Lewis had a drive instead. De Clifford was well over six feet tall and Brian too was taller than me. I drove many Rileys and loved them all. The first Brooklands model that I drove was the one owned by Frank

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Brooklands Rileys were used in every sort of competition,

here in a Bugatti Owners Club speed trial. Above, right. A Brooklands Riley goes a bit wide at a speed trial.

Ashby, which I took round the outer circuit in practice for the Relay Race. I remember its extreme lowness; sitting at the wheel you could easily put your arm over the side and put your hand on the road. The steering wheel was almost vertical and there was a tiny little remote-control gearlever in a miniature gate. The Brooklands Riley seemed so much more substantial than its rivals, the Amilcars and Salmsons, which always looked very spidery. Another Riley that I loved was the Gamecock, a most unusual sports two-seater. This was another low car (but not as low as the Brooklands) and a real road car, perhaps more of a tourer than a sports model, with a rather squarish tail which had useful luggage accommodation. The Gamecock was rather typical of Rileys in not following any fashion and, in this instance, not setting a fashion either but remaining an individual example of Riley design. It was only listed for the year 1932, though a few were made in 1933. My favourite of all the Rileys was the 1933 Lynx, a simple two-door open sports four-seater on the nine and six-cylinder chassis. I suppose my special interest in the six-cylinder Riley was because it was the ancestor of the ERA, but the nine was the much

more successful model. The Imp was a most attractive little car, almost as beautiful as its bigger sister, the MPH, and for its size a better performer. Most Imps had the pre-selector gearbox which inevitably took the edge off the performance because it always needed a surfeit of power, available usually with a bigger engine. An Imp with a plain gearbox was a really delightful car, but a rare one. Its only serious

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A Riley Imp at Brooklands. Note the non-standard very small wheels and fat tyres copied from the works ERAs. Not enough performance to be justified, but they looked good!

drawback was the almost complete absence of any luggage accommodation. The later 1!/2-litre four-cylinder Sprite was a much more practical machine. Heavier wings and running boards gave better

protection, but did not look quite as attractive as the flared wings of the Imp and MPH and all aspects of performance were excellent.

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I drove one all the way from London to Carlisle and did several laps of Brooklands. This was a perfectly standard model with the pre-selector gearbox. On the track it showed 90 on the speedometer, actually about 85, and had almost racing car handling. It looked as though it had no luggage accommodation like the MPH, but in fact there was ample and I had a suitcase and some odds and ends on my Carlisle trip. I drove a Kestrel Sprite for a time, but never found it as attractive or as much fun to drive as the earlier Kestrels that Mays and Berthon used to run. Anyway, the supercharged ERA-engined Kestrel probably spoiled me for any other version of that model. Being very Riley minded because of the Bourne car I looked for one myself and managed to acquire an old fabric Monaco Nine —] think it was a 1927 model — in pretty good condition except that bore wear was excessive; it used about as much oil as petrol. I cut out a large sunshine roof opening, as much to let the oil fumes out as to let the sunshine in. Closing the roof by pressing drawing pins through the fabric into the wood frames made the front compartment shower proof but by no means rain proof, so in wet weather I wore a sou’wester and oilskins. That was my rather basic Riley transport, but I had some good drives in other people’s Rileys. A very large friend of mine, known as ‘man-mountain’ Ripley, had an unique Brooklands model. Ripley really was a very big fellow and there was no way in which he could get into a standard model, so he had Boon and Porter build him a one-off long chassis Brooklands model, with a drop-frame and tiny radiator. With an open touring four-seater body it handled very

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well indeed, but looked rather odd — so very long and low, rather like a Lancia Lambda. Another funny one-off Brooklands Riley that I drove at Brooklands was a fixed-head coupe which I found strangely attractive. Lord Howe saw me sitting in that car in the Paddock and came over. He obviously rather liked it, too. He and I had rather a penchant for such cars. Several of his town cars had been in that idiom, sports models usually seen in open guise but fitted with small coupé tops. His Type-57 SC Bugatti, L-type MG Magna and Fiat 500 were typical. I have always fancied something like this for winter motoring, and my present MGA coupé fits that bill today. Looking back on those Rileys and other similar makes I remember how of the smaller engines the four-cylinder versions were nearly always better than the six-cylinder versions. With Rileys I wanted to prefer the six-cylinder models because of the six-cylinder ERAs, but somehow or other the four-cylinder cars had a nicer feel. There was a better punch from low revs, whilst the silky smoothness of the six-cylinder versions lacked that punch. This applied to most other small sixes but exceptions were the N-type MG Magnettes and the 1!/2-litre six-cylinder Singers. Amongst several Le Mans Singers which I drove, John Hodge’s 1934 TT model was the best of the four-cylinder types.

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John Hodge at Brooklands in his Le Mans model Singer Nine.

Though standard, it had been very carefully prepared and tuned. I sold several more all of which were nines. I liked their appearance but not quite as much as the equivalent, rival, MGs. I suppose my bias was because of the lack of a racing pedigree in the Singers, though in the trials world both the Singers and MGs were extremely successful. Most of my friends were MG mounted but a notable exception was a great character with whom I had a fine rapport, ‘Gof Imhoff was a very successful trials and rally driver, very good looking and distinctive with one blue eye and one brown. His wife, Nina, who was a very good navigator and driver, was a White Russian. Gof, the Chairman of the North West London

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Jackie Astbury with her I!]2-litre Le Mans Singer for the Monte Carlo Rally.

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Motor Club for many years, was in the music and gramophone business in a big way. Most of his Singers were Nines, but the ones that I liked most were the six-cylinder 1'/2-litres. I drove Jackie Astbury’s Le Mans 1!/2-litre several times and it was very much a thoroughbred. Jackie herself won many trophies with that car. The very best of the six-cylinder Singers was a one-off wide track 2-litre racing car that Fox and Nicholl built for sports car races like the TT and Le Mans. It was unlike any other Singer and was painted red like the Lagondas, which it rather resembled, also produced by Fox and Nicholl. Brian Lewis raced this very successfully and I had a short drive in it at Brooklands. There was a very rare 1!/2-litre open sports four-seater Singer, catalogued at £295, which must have been very good value at that price. We had one in stock for some time which I drove several times and I considered that it was a very sound and attractive car. I sold it to a dentist who thoroughly enjoyed it, but I do not think I have ever seen one since. The model never sold, probably because it was never adequately promoted by the Singer Company.

At about this time my latest amour was a girl who simply loved horses. I must have been very smitten because I, too, _ developed a great love of horses, and regularly took a day off mid-week for riding. I didn’t hunt and only followed occasionally, though I found that quite a lot of my motor racing friends hunted regularly. My interest in riding remained quite keen, but static; it never developed or rivalled my enthusiasm for motoring. I think that my amour must have faded away at the same time that I was using a Lea Francis 1!/2-litre supercharged Hyper four-seater. The ‘Leaf’ was very noisy and became unpopular at the stables. I usually rode a splendid gelding of 17 hands called Tom, and neither he nor any of the other horses seemed to like the noise of the ‘Leaf’. Eventually I felt I had to choose between Tom and the Lea

FF Lit WZ Francis, and I didn’t have to think twice — the whine of the supercharger and that hard exhaust note were magnificent. Anyway, the smell of horse manure could hardly rival the sweet scent of Castrol R. That girl was rather adorable, but you can’t have everything. By the time of the late 30s there was another small sports car that seemed to have everything — it wasn’t all that expensive, and it was British: the HRG. The ‘H’ was Halford, a Brooklands driver; the “R’ was Guy Robins and the ‘G’ was Godfrey of the

original GN. In effect, the HRG was a more civilized TT Replica Frazer-Nash with a normal transmission instead of the chain drive. I knew Ron Godfrey quite well and he lent me the prototype. Later, I got to know the other Directors and I drove the Le Mans model. This was a lovely little car with all the right equipment but, in fact, it didn’t run at Le Mans. The one that did so well on the

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The 1!|2litre Le Mans HRG; the one that didn’t go to Le Mans.

Sarthe Circuit was originally a more standard version but with a long tail and a large fuel tank. It was owned by a great enthusiast who is also a most amusing character, Peter Clarke. He and another friend of mine, Marcus Chambers, won their class at Le Mans. Marcus had been an early member of the VSCC, had raced

all sorts of cars from Austin 7s to Bentleys and knew the sport inside out. As I was devoting more and more of my time to ERAs and the ERA Club, I was doing less and less work at the London Car Exchange. Our very successful salesman, Eric Smith, retired and, with my friend Denis Burton gone away to another company, our sales staff was much depleted. At the same time the parent company, the Motorists Purchasing Association, seemed to be in recession. Its clientele, mostly from the Services, the aristocracy and the Church, was growing old and the younger generation was buying elsewhere. I felt that I could do better with another company, so when Denis Burton told me that I would be welcome in the group of London garages for whom he acted as Sales Manager, I jumped at

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High Street Garage and Hedley Motors of Hammersmith were operated by a small holding Company, headed by H.K. Lytton, the son of the famous Savoyard Sir Henry Lytton. Once again, here

was a link with the theatre, and again it was the musical side; not quite musical comedy but Gilbert and Sullivan with the D’Oyly Carte Company. The younger Henry Lytton, always known as H.K., was a cheerful bouncy character and we got on well. I was

Pe sarrmert site KENSINGTON HIGH STREET 257-261, High St,Kensington, W.8

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appointed to the Sales Department under Denis Burton. My

connection with ERAs was well established and understood, and I ¢

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was told that at least part of the stock of new and second-hand cars would reflect those interests. I was based at the Kensington High Street Garage, a fine new building on a prime site with frontages onto Earls Court Road and High Street, Kensington. Business was brisk straight away and the future seemed bright. At Bourne, after the demise of the Riley-ERA project, further thoughts of an ERA sports car were dropped for a time. Then Raymond borrowed a prototype V8 Autovia from V.R. which was a very unusual but well made car, and in which Peter Berthon was particularly interested as he had become very sold on V8 engines. The Autovia unit was a mixture of 1!/2-litre and nine ideas. The bore was the same as that for the 11/2 litre and the stroke was as for the nine. Cubic capacity was 2849cc, nearly 3-litres — just about right for an ERA sports car thought Peter. There was a lovely stiff chassis frame, but it was rather heavy and

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quite long. I made some drawings of shorter versions having

obtained blueprints from Foleshill. Peter and I visited the works and we drove a later version with a very good synchromesh gearbox, instead of the Armstrong-Siddeley pre-selector gearbox as fitted to the car that had been loaned to Ray. It was an interesting idea but nothing came of it. I believe that it died because Rileys could never have produced another version. They were in such a state: too many models and forever changing their plans. Humphrey Cook decided that it would be better to design and develop a brand new car, as Murray Jamieson had always recommended. ‘Jamey’ was leaving Austins, having completed the development of the beautiful twin-cam 750 racing cars, so he was engaged to design the new sports car. Harry Mundy, who had been with the Alvis Company, joined him. At a working lunch at the George Hotel at Stamford, Humphrey, Ray, Peter and Murray roughed out a general plan. Left to Peter, I have no doubt that it would have been a V8 or a V6 — inevitably very expensive — but Murray Jamieson opted for a straight six of 3 to 4 litres capacity, unsupercharged and very light. He wanted a four-speed synchromesh gearbox like the one produced by Alvis, which Harry Mundy so much liked, and a stiff frame with independent front suspension using Lancia-type springing. He said he would have liked to have used Lancia-type front suspension for the little Austin had the car been any larger. His major requirement was that there would be constant castor angle and perfect steering geometry. Work commenced on such a design. The first important International Race of ERAs after the

~ LL

Nuffield Trophy, Donington. Freddie Dixon in Riley No.26 amongst the ERAs. Charlie Martin on the inside in No.25 — quite typical, blowing his cheeks out and wearing his cap back to front.

formation of the Club was another British Empire Trophy, moved from Brooklands where the tight circuit had been so disastrous for ERAs, to the real road circuit at Donington. I went with new friends from the ERA

Club, and we were

all full of confidence for success, but as in the two previous Empire Trophy Races we had a lot of trouble and no victory, though Pat Fairfield was a good second in his private 1'/2-litre engined ERA. Lord Howe had an entry but his new car, numbered R8B, was not

quite ready so he had a drive with Dr. Benjafield in his ERA ROB. Lord Howe enjoyed his drive but said that on his own car he would have the seat shallower enabling him to sit lower. I was very sorry not to be able to go to Monaco with the ERA team, because of family and business commitments. Bira’s win

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Monaco. The works ERAs. Raymond Mays in typical garb, Madge Cook behind the radiator of the second car.

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The chicane at Monaco.

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was an outstanding achievement and a surprise to everyone. The 1936 International Trophy at Brooklands was the next big event and was another milestone for Bira and the ERA marque. For me, the practice sessions were even more enjoyable than the race itself. Lord Howe was driving his new ERA which looked very smart in his blue and silver. It was planned that Ray would drive R4B with a 2-litre engine and Zoller supercharger, but Peter Berthon blew it up on a trial run down the Fen road quite late one evening. By the time he had walked back to the works it was quite dark. The unlighted ERA was being looked after by a Bourne police sergeant. For the return of the car on the tow rope there was an escort of two police cars. There was every help and no complaints, and this was typical of the fine co-operation given to ERA by the police everywhere, particularly at Bourne. So, a normal supercharged 1!/2-litre engine was fitted into R4B. It was hoped that Marcel Lehoux would drive R1A in the team. He was a very experienced middle-aged French driver who had many successes in Continental Hill Climbs, mostly with Bugattis and had become a great friend of Ray. This plan fell through and Ray had the good idea of giving a chance to Kay Petre, who had been very successful with Ray’s old White Riley, which, after all, was almost an ERA. Kay was going to have an illegal drive on the road at Bourne early in the week: before the race but the car was not ready until the last moment so her first drive in the car was at Brooklands on the International Trophy Circuit. There was a problem because Kay was very small and RIA had a driving position suitable for Ray or Humphrey. With the White Riley she had a special seat made for her, which she used to bring when she drove in the works Riley team. She brought that seat with her to Brooklands for the International Trophy but it could not be fitted into the ERA. This wasn’t vital, however, because the works

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ERAs in profusion lining up for the start of the International Trophy. Pat Fairfield, back to the camera, is standing by his 1100cc model No.30, alongside ‘Bira’s winning car No.15. Raymond Mays’ No.11 needs to be pushed back a little. Peter Berthon, back to camera, is by the cockpit. On the next row Freddie Dixon is bending over No. 25.

had modified R1A’s seat and backrest so that Kay could reach the pedals and was reasonably comfortable. Raymond May’s mechanic, Ken Richardson, and I pushed Kay off on her first practice run. She went slowly round the Paddock to get the hang of the controls. That sounds very easy, but in fact it was not so simple, as a highly-tuned supercharged racing car is not all that easy to drive slowly round a rather crowded paddock, and this was Kay’s first experience of the pre-selector gearbox on a racing car. Off she went onto the International Trophy Circuit with its special chicanes, where she managed very well, except that she found it difficult keeping the plugs dry, as too much running was being done on the over-run. The story of the race is very well known. It became a great dice between Ray and Bira in identical 1!/2-litre ERAs; everyone seems to remember the sensational last lap in which the lead changed three times, Bira winning from Ray by only one second. Kay Petre’s race was not very happy because after a few laps the car went onto five cylinders and all efforts to get it on six were to no avail. On one occasion, Kay stalled the car in the handicap chicane, and Ken Richardson and two other mechanics ran over to

give her a push start. They got it going but it wasn’t worth carrying on on five cylinders so the car was retired. I doubt if it was Kay’s fault, because afterwards it was found that the scavenge pump was faulty and this could have caused the oiling up. Bira’s sensational victory and Ray’s fine second place were much publicized. Praise was given to both drivers, but I personally considered that Ray was very off form and made untypical mistakes. His second pit stop was a disaster, as he over-shot and everyone fell over one another trying to make up time without

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success. On that last lap I thought there was absolutely no reason for Ray to have taken such a long outside line on the corner of the

banking. Bira, right on the ball, took the corner even faster on a much tighter line as surely Ray could have done. But nothing detracts from the victory and the wonderful sportsmanship of both drivers.

Incidentally, towards the end of the race, Prince Chula made an error in his lap chart and thought that Ray had an extra lap lead. Bira would never have had Chula’s instruction to increase speed that enabled him to win had not Humphrey Cook alerted Chula about his mistake. Yet another instance of the unselfish sportsmanship that prevailed in those days. After the race, talking to Humphrey, I remember that he said how sorry he was that Lord Howe had an oil pipe go and was only able to do a few laps. He said, ‘““The old man was very good in practice’. Ray and I picked up Humphrey’s apt name for Lord Howe — The Old Man. Indeed he was the old man, senior to

everyone. The name stuck, his friends, and even his family used it, and soon it was well established in motor racing circles. The Old Man was used in great affection and he obviously rather liked it himself. For the rest of the season ERAs suffered defeats from an unexpected direction. Dick Seaman bought from Lord Howe his Delage and all the spares. Giulio Ramponi convinced Dick that he could rebuild the Delage into an ‘ERA beater’. The story has been told many times, and well told, too. Giulio and Dick did all they planned. The basically 1927 Delage put it across the ERA team wherever they went. Though that Delage meant so much to me, because it was the car that really brought me into motor racing, I was not all that torn in my allegiance — by that time ERAs had become my life. I was only glad that the best fight put up by ERAs against the Delage was by Lord Howe in his new car, R8B. In the ‘200’ at Donington there was intense rivalry between the two makes and it

AYN

had been mounting during previous events. Ray, as leader of the works team, was having a frustrating time, because there was continuous development and experiments with the Zoller supercharger. Peter kept on trying new schemes to bring the power in further down the rev range. This proved very successful for short

distances such long races. In superb in R8B the fastest car

as Shelsley Walsh, but very difficult to sustain for practice for the ‘200’ at Donington Lord Howe was with the Murray Jamieson blower, in fact his was and the most consistent.

In the race, in ideal weather conditions, Seaman and the Old Man went hard at it right from the start. The duel continued throughout the whole race. Seaman knew he did not need to refuel, whereas Howe was equally certain that he had to stop, so needed to build up sufficient lead to make the one refuelling pit stop. The Old Man drove like a demon, right on the limit all the time, but never put a foot wrong. I watched him coming into the hairpin on several laps, locking over to the right very early and scrubbing off the speed and opening the throttle half way round the corner, sliding in a four-wheel drift to the outside of the corner nearly onto the grass,

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Lord Howe in R8Bat

Donington.

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before straightening out and shooting under the bridge. I thought

‘his cornering was better and faster than any other driver on that

day. He led Seaman for most of the race but on his pit stop Above, right. Our far too

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Seaman went through, although the Old Man made him work very

hard ; for his win. It was a splendid race, one ;of Lord Howe’s best, s proving that he could keep up his concentration for a long event. Though there was such intense rivalry between the Seaman équipe and the ERA team there was no bitterness and only the best of British sportsmanship prevailed. At Kensington High Street garage I was selling quite a lot of cars and I was able to renew a friendship from my Bentley days. One of our regular customers was the actress, Jane Baxter, whom I so admired, and who had been married to Clive Dunfee. She had a

very nice grey Wolseley Fourteen drop-head coupé which carried her late husband’s special 130mph BARC badge. Clive achieved that 130 plus in the Bentley in which he was so tragically killed. I did rather well selling Talbots, particularly the big 95 Saloons. Jimmy Nervo had one to supplement his Speed 20 Alvis

I have just delivered this Talbot 95 to Reg Wilcox in Devon.

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which was a very special car bodied by Bertelli and I sold a 95 Saloon to my Uncle Reg, and delivered it to his house near Exeter. That model had amazingly good road-holding despite its great size. Jimmy Nervo said that he reckoned that he could corner his as fast as the Alvis — so one day we tried it. I drove the Alvis and Jimmy drove the Talbot. After several practice runs we decided on an open fast right-hand bend. I drove the Alvis on what I thought was about the limit and Jimmy bravely attempted to follow me at the same speed. Amidst much laughter we retrieved the Talbot from amongst the bushes about thirty yards across the field at the exit of the corner. No damage, except for a few scratches on the wings. We

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agreed that the Talbot was not quite so good round the corners as the Alvis. This was confirmed when we swapped cars and I tried to follow Jimmy round a roundabout and got the Talbot very sideways. I sold a new Talbot Ten to the very pretty daughter of one of our Kensington customers. She had never driven a sports car before so I gave her tuition at Brooklands. Though Georges Roesch rather derided the little Talbot, which had been developed from the modest Aero Minx, I thought it was a good little car which handled

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The Talbot 10 at Brooklands,

with the owner, Peggy Williams, at the wheel.

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ey MLL 7 well. Eric Findon, the editor of The Light Car and Cycle Car had a later model which he very much liked. I tried his but I preferred the earlier and lighter model that my girlfriend and I drove at Brooklands. At about this time I had a surprising contact with the police. I happened to sell a Vauxhall saloon to a man who came into our showrooms at Kensington. The man was a stranger and the car was an uninteresting 14hp Vauxhall a year or two old. There was no part exchange, it was a straight hire purchase sale. Good references were established, the deal was done, and the man departed with the car later that day. The very next day two detectives from the Vice Squad at Scotland Yard came to the showrooms. They told H.K. Lytton and me that our customer was a hardened criminal just released from prison and was already wanted in connection with drug offences and forgeries. How exciting, I thought. He had used a forged signature and references, so we wouldn’t get the down-payment in any case. The detectives had been hot on his trail, but had lost track of him since he collected the car from our showrooms. The addresses given to me were false and they asked me if I

Mr & Mrs Jimmy Nervo with the special Bertelli-bodied Speed 20 Alvis.

I ALLL,

had any idea of his destination. He had sat at my desk and had made a couple of phone calls, and I remembered that he wrote something on a piece of paper which I thought he had put in his pocket. Did he use the blotting pad on my desk? Well, he might have done. The detectives studied my pad and found what might have been a phone number. Using a little hand mirror (real Sherlock Holmes stuff) they were able to decipher the number, which they knew straight away. The number belonged to a Paddington prostitute called Dolly who had two or three young girls working for her, and who was well known to the London underworld and the police. The detectives were very pleased and they reckoned that there was a very good chance of them picking up their man from that address complete an ill-gotten thousand pounds they expected him to have. I said, “Please may I come along too? After all, I could identify him’’. They told me that they would wait until about three o’clock in the morning because that would be their best chance of finding him in. They would not expect me to stay up so late. I said that I would gladly stay up and begged to be included. I suggested using my own car and showed them the fine open Speed Twenty Alvis that I was using at the time; an SB series Vanden Plas Sports four-seater from Charles Follett. It was agreed that I could go, and would take them to Rainham first of all, where they had planned to make a call to interview someone else in connection with the same case. They had been hoping to borrow a Flying Squad car but there was some doubt about such a car being available. All this happened in the morning, and when I had finished my work at about six o’clock, I drove the Alvis to Scotland Yard where I met some more of the Police Force and joined them for a drink round the corner at St. Stephen’s Tavern. I learned much more about the case and how ‘our man’ was working with an American gang peddling drugs and using addicts for crime. He was the son of a famous forger and had been at borstal in his youth but

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had spent the last two years at Wormwood Scrubs. I also learned that the Vice Squad (a slang name for the Soho Division engaged in narcotics cases) had no fast cars available for their work and had to rely on the Flying Squad at Hendon when they were needed. On occasion they were allowed to commandeer private cars. They also employed consultants from time to time but when the consultants required car expenses, that required special permission. I hastily affirmed that I required no expenses at all and was only too pleased to be able to help. The trip to and from Rainham through the East End of London with two members of the Vice Squad aboard went smoothly — no excitement I’m afraid — and I merely sat in the car whilst the detectives called on someone at a block of flats. Back at the Yard I met another member of the Vice Squad, a very senior detective who was also very knowledgeable about cars. I showed him the Alvis and I persuaded him to take it for a run up and down the Embankment which he obviously enjoyed. He had met Malcolm Campbell and Lord Cottenham in connection with the Flying Squad, so we had mutual friends. I was having a great time enjoying every minute, asking many questions about the Force and the work. At about midnight we all went off to a coffee stall at Paddington to have something to eat. The man running the stall obviously knew all the detectives and I was introduced to him as ‘Rivers; one of our lot’. This pleased me

very much. By that time, we were all on christian name terms — Bill and Steve were the detectives. It seemed that if I played my cards right I could join them on other occasions, more or less unofficially as a consultant. The excuse was that I had useful contacts with the gang, that is with ‘our man’ to whom I sold the Vauxhall. The fact that I had the use of a good fast car, had no ties, good motoring experience and required no expenses was all very helpful. There was another useful factor in that I am only 5 feet 8 inches tall, so could not possibly be taken for a policeman. At that time, all Metropolitan Police had to be at least six feet tall, and though, as detectives, these were in plain clothes they could only be ‘Police’. On some occasions it was advantageous to use someone who was obviously not in the Police Force. A good example was the situation that would occur when the detectives were going to pick up ‘our mam’ at three o’clock in the morning from the prostitute’s flat. Westminster and the West End were almost deserted when we finally set off in the Alvis from the Yard (I was already regarding myself as an ace detective). We called in at Vine Street Police Station where two uniformed policemen in a black Wolseley Fourteen followed us towards Paddington. Our rendezvous was an old Victorian house containing several rather shabby flats in the Bayswater area.

The Police with the Wolseley parked in another street behind the flats, just in case anyone attempted a getaway at the back of the building. The front door was up several steps from the pavement enabling the detectives to hide just out of immediate vision from the porch. I pulled my trilby hat down as I had seen detectives doing on the screen — and nonchalantly walked up the steps, and

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A Flying Squad Wolseley

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their workshops at Hendon, Note the Railton with its police gong under the bonnet.

banged on the door. Feeling, but I am afraid not really looking,

like a: mixture of Bulldog Drummond and Sherlock Holmes, :I : :

continued to bang on the door, the noise echoing down the silent ee After more banging, I heard sounds of movements and saw

that someone was peering at me through the coloured glass panels

Of the door, which was opened cautiously. A middle aged and very lousy blonde in a red dressing gown appeared. ‘““What do you want?” she said, and as she spoke Steve joined me on the steps flashing his CID card. He merely said, “Hello Dolly”. Madam got the message immediately and said, ‘““Go on up. Top floor’’. I followed as we raced up the stairs. The top floor flat door was locked but it was a shabby, flimsy looking contraption. Steve put his shoulder to it and we burst in. Switching on the light as we went in we saw our man and a young girl in bed. I expected a fight, or at least a struggle, but they both seemed quite resigned and got up out of bed, completely starkers, and started to put their clothes on. It seemed to me that they must have been used to that sort of thing. As they dressed we were joined by Bill and one of the uniformed policemen. After the statutory warning, the police set about searching every inch of that room, and of course, their clothes. Again, there was no resistance whatsoever. They were closely questioned but denied hiding any money, and only a few pounds were found. We took them both

back to the yard in separate cars. I travelled with Steve and one of the uniformed policemen sat in the back of the Alvis, handcuffed to our man who was quite cheerful and rather cocky. He told us that he thought that he was rather unlucky having been caught again so soon, but he said that his involvement with the gang was very small and reckoned that he would only get two or three years, and when he came out he already had another scheme that was much better and that he would make a mint and never be caught. I was amazed at his coolness and that he was so untroubled that he had only been out of prison for a few weeks, and was obviously going back again for another stretch of several years. The police never did find the money. I wonder if the girl knew where it

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was hidden, and if she ever got hold of any of it. Our man got three years and, as far as I know, hasn’t been inside since. I wonder, did he operate his scheme and is he now living in

splendour in quiet retirement on the Cote d’Azur? As for the Vauxhall, we retrieved that undamaged. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with the Vice Squad which led to many more evenings in the company of Bill and Steve. My inclusion in their activities was approved by those in authority at

the Yard, and I think that my friendship with Malcolm Campbell and Lord Cottenham probably helped. I never spoiled my chances by asking for any expenses. I continued to use that Speed Twenty Alvis for quite a while. When I sold it I took over the use of a 105 Talbot which was even more useful for police work because it was a four-door saloon. We had some fine fast motoring in the Home Counties, ignoring speed limits and other restrictions, but to my regret I was never involved in a police chase. Activities with the Vice Squad proved most interesting and at times quite exciting, but I am afraid that my jobs were always restricted to the simple and not at all dangerous. One of many surprises, was the fact that the Squad so often knew the perpetrators of a crime but did not pull them in. I learned that only by keeping track of a lot of crime, and even letting it go unchecked and unpunished, was it possible to control it. In this way, they were able to detect much of the really serious crime. Quite a lot of the girls — prostitutes — were good friends of the police and were even protected by them in return for information. I visited most of the London prisons and got to know the different grades of prisoners of whom some were well educated and affluent. In those days, one could immediately recognize the social status of a person by his or her clothing, but the prison uniform reduced everyone to a common level, as did the hair cut. It was only when they spoke that one immediately knew that there was the difference of social status. Only twice did I see anyone arrested after that first occasion in the Bayswater flat and I never saw any resistance. I think the most exciting thing that I saw was the shooting of part of a blue film. Steve, another detective and I spent about six hours hiding in the roof of a garage in Shepherd Market (incidentally, just about where Stirling Moss lives now). Through cracks and some holes in the wooden ceiling on which we crouched we peered down and watched whilst two men, one with lighting equipment and the other with a movie camera, shot film of a Negro man and a young English girl. The girl was very well spoken, attractive and I guess about 17 or 18 years old. She was a drug addict willingly performing in return for a fix which she so desperately required. Very wrong of course, but I did find it exceedingly erotic. No action was taken by the Squad at the time but the gang was eventually caught, and I spent some time talking to the girl. She was a desperately sad case, completely hooked, and prepared to do anything, even murder if necessary, to obtain a fix. On another occasion I was required to place on the person of a certain lady a Notice of Subpoena. I knew nothing about such things but it seemed that the police were having great difficulty in

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subpoening the lady, who did not wish to appear in court. All attempts had failed. She knew just how to play it. So I, who was obviously not a policeman, intercepted her as she left her house and stuffed the notice down her blouse whilst this was witnessed by two detectives who had been hiding in the bushes. The plan worked very well but the rather attractive and very cunning lady was furious. She warned the police that she was going to summon me for sexually assaulting her, saying that I put my hand down her cleavage and felt her breasts. Never a dull moment! I have to admit that she did have a rather low cut dress and a considerable cleavage. In order to place the notice on her person I did have rather to encroach on private property. However, the threat did not succeed. The lady knew full well that the detectives were witnesses, and she had no case. In due

course she attended court and the police obtained the information they required. Excitements on other occasions included leaving two near naked prostitutes fighting with razor blades in a Soho flat. The detective with me said, ““We leave now.” and we did. I guess he knew what he was doing, but I often wonder how it ended because it looked very unhealthy to me. On another occasion, when I was roped in for an identity parade, I had a nasty moment. A woman picked me straight away as the man who had attempted to strangle her husband. I learned that she had picked another detective the previous day for the same offence, and neither of us had been within a hundred miles of the crime. This was typical of most identity parades; they seldom proved successful. As there was more real work to be done for Kensington High Street Garage and for ERA at Bourne, my activities with the Vice Squad became less frequent; just the occasional evening or night time escapade, nothing important, but still interesting as it kept me in touch with another world.

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I very much enjoyed the ERA Club. There was close contact with the works, because private owners, officials and others closely involved in the racing joined our ranks. As soon as I learned that Lord Howe had ordered an ERA I asked him to be our President. He gladly accepted and took the keenest interest in our affairs and attended meetings. He brought some new members, and Sammy Davis and Kay Petre were enrolled as Vice Presidents. Despite all this, our membership was never very large — only a few hundred souls. So, my original idea of providing substantial financial backing for the project failed. However, what we lacked in quantity we amply made up in quality, and Humphrey Cook was very encouraged by the presence of such a back-up organization, the like of which had never been seen before in motor racing.

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Raymond Mays’ Christmas card 1936/7 featuring R4C at Shelsley.

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Pat Fairfield chasing Bira at Donington, Lord Howe almost hidden behind Fairfield’s car. The Hairpin is not so much changed today.

At the same corner Lord Howe chasing Chris Staniland in the Monoposto Alfa. Note that the rear part of the bonnet has been removed to help cooling.

Raymond Mays on the line at Shelsley Walsh. Behind the car is Peter Berthon and the columnist, Godfrey Wynn. Godfrey and his friend Beverley Nicholls were great friends of Ray’s and sometimes

went to motor racing events with him, although they did not have any special knowledge or interest in motor racing. Paul Berthon and I climbed on to the top of a haystack to take this picture but we were eventually ordered off by an irate Lesley Wilson.

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Amongst the very active members were Rob Gerard and his girlfriend Joan. (Rob (later always known as Bob) was a Riley enthusiast, competing in trials in his father’s tourer, before acquiring a Gamecock of his own. David Yorke and his brother were to the fore in the organization of all our events, and Billy Cotton, the dance band leader, joined when he was racing his MG and Riley, before he bought the ex-Seaman ERA from Manby-Colegrave. Tony Rolt had a two-litre Triumph, and then the ex-Donald Healey Triumph Dolomite which he raced in Ireland. Most of the Committee had 3-litre Bentley Speed models, except for Philip Turner who had a long-chassis tourer. One of the keenest members was Donald Mc Cullouch, a very successful author, whose book

You have been warned was a best seller. Roland

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Lorna Berthon standing between two friends behind Pat Fairfield and his ERA at Donington. The mechanic in the foreground is E.R.Ames.

itt (TEA 5

King-Farlow, a great friend of George Monkhouse, and a leading racing time keeper, took over the job of the Club’s accountant. The treasurer was Philip Mayne, a retired Bank Manager who proved a tower of strength. He competed in some International Rallies. Looking through lists of members now, one comes across many names well known in the sport, but at that time merely young enthusiasts. Half-way through the 1936 season the works team made the first of several changes in the colour of the cars. Though the International Race ruling was not changed, at many events correct colours were not enforced. The works were not having such a successful season in 1936 and had seemed to be dogged with bad luck. Humphrey was rather superstitious and suggested that perhaps for ERAs, green might be an unlucky colour so the cars’ colours were changed to black. Most private owners seemed to get away with their own colour schemes even in important International Races and Lord Howe was very pleased to be allowed to use his blue and silver on the Continent in races that previously insisted on all British entries being in green. A race that I would love to have attended was the Vanderbilt Cup on the Roosevelt Raceway on Long Island, USA. I could have had some expenses through Pat Fairfield but not nearly enough to make it possible. There was a strong British contingent, however, and I read

One of our most popular and cheerful drivers, Reggie Tongue. His car R11B is now owned and raced by Martin Morris.

all about it afterwards. On their return from the States the ‘Old Man’ and Pat Fairfield had lunch at Eastgate House and told wonderful stories of the event. It seems that the Americans only knew a very different sort of racing, mostly on oval tracks, but the circuit chosen at the Roosevelt Raceway was very different, with a mass of tight turns. In plan form the layout seemed to suit the European road racing cars much better than the typical American track cars. However, the surface turned out to be very loose, like a motorcycle dirt track. A number of the American drivers had a lot of experience in dirt track racing on oval tracks. In the first practice session those American drivers using the broadsiding skidding technique were the fastest and the other Americans who had only Indianapolis and other banked track experience were much slower. Nuvolari in his Auto-Union and the British ERA drivers very soon got the hang of it, adapting their considerable road racing experience to the dirt surface. They were soon the fastest, cornering nearer to the limit of adhesion than the Americans. The ERA drivers hung their tails out to some extent but didn’t use the full-blooded broadside which was the American fashion in dirt track racing. Needless to say, Nuvolari got the measure of the whole thing in no time and no one could get near his times. In the works Auto-Union, he won the race quite easily followed by Wimille with the big, 4.7- litre Bugatti and Brivio’s Alfa-Romeo. The 1!/2-litre ERAs driven by Fairfield, Howe and Lewis all finished strongly beating most of the larger cars. All the European drivers were full of praise for the sportsmanship and hospitality of the Americans. The 1936 season finished for us with the October meeting at

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5 eMart,

Brooklands when Ray had a field day — winning the Mountain Championship in the 2-litre and the Siam Trophy in the 1}/2- litre. I went down to Brooklands early for the first practice session to meet Raymond Mays. The morning session was only on the outer circuit but Ray was anxious to try the 2-litre so he did two or three laps on the full circuit although he was only entered for the Mountain. I was very interested and watched from the first bay beyond the Members Bridge. I didn’t like the look of it at all, and was glad that only one or two slow cars were running at the time. Ray rode very high on the Members Banking and was having a rough ride. The car was jumping about and it flew very high in the air before landing after the big bump. Ray told me afterwards that he, too, didn’t like it and said

that if an ERA was to run on the outer circuit it would have to be set up specially. He said he was doing about 130 most of the time. At that time, 1936/7, the French Grand Prix was for sports cars. Presumably this was because the French did not want the German cars dominating their own Grand Prix. To my surprise, Lord Howe drove a Marendaz Special, a model I rather liked, but he had no success with it and never drove one again.

Lord Howe driving the Marendaz Special in the French Grand Prix. ED BRA

The Marendaz was a very pretty little car with a radiator very like a 3-litre Bentley. With Captain Marendaz I met a keen owner, Aileen Moss, who had a special short chassis model for trials. I drove this with Aileen on one occasion, and it had a fine

3 \Y a : Penny.

performance. I got to know her husband, Alfred, who was a dentist; he had driven a Ford at Indianapolis and they were both great enthusiasts and over the years I got to know all their family. At that time, when Aileen had the Marendaz Special, their seven year old son, called Stirling, had yet to make his name. Eventually, after a lot of fun, and the usual minor ecstasies and heartaches, I met a girl I found that I couldn’t live without. I called her Penny and it stuck, though it wasn’t her name at all; it was merely my favourite girl’s name at that time. Nearly eight years younger than me, Marjorie Overall, madly pretty with an enchanting speaking voice, I fell like a load of bricks. I first met her and her younger sister with mutual friends at a bathing party one Saturday morning. Their mother was touring in

SF LM ZA IY Scotland with their Grandfather. Penny’s father had died when she and her sister were only babies, and they lived with their mother and Grandparents. I wanted to take the two sisters to a friend’s birthday party that night but the girls said that it was probably out of the question. They were in the charge of their very strict Grandmother, and they reckoned that they would be unlikely to be allowed to go out with someone unknown to the family and to a stranger’s house. The girls were aged 18 and 16. I,*full of brash self confidence, thought I could get round the Grandmother quite easily. It was no push-over. The very forbidding, conservative, Victorian Mrs. Long greeted me coldly saying, “Who are you young man? Who are your parents, do I know them? Where do you live?” My answers were not very satisfactory, but I had been warned by the girls, so I was able to tell her that another lady, a local J.P. who was friendly with both families, would be telephoning her on my behalf. This she did, and I was rather reluctantly given permission to escort Mrs. Long’s young grand-daughters to the party. I was ordered to bring them back at 10pm sharp; quite absurd of course at a party which started at about 8pm! Despite the limited first indulgence I was over the moon with happiness and absolutely potty about my latest amour. Penny became my regular companion from then on. On the return from Scotland of her mother and Grandfather I pressed my suit with enthusiasm. My activities were still very restricted by the Victorian Grandparents and the fact that my Penny had only just left school. I was required to tell them precisely where we were going. Permission had to be obtained and details furnished in respect of every outing and absolutely no late nights were allowed. Penny’s mother became a splendid ally and, to my great surprise, the Grandfather, John Long, turned out to be an

enthusiastic pioneer motorist. John Long was certainly an enthusiast, but though I could scarcely credit such a thing — he could not drive! From early days he had been an enthusiastic motorist and had owned one of the earliest Daimlers with a Landaulette body. He always maintained ee &

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John Long with one of his tourers; an early Daimler.

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two cars, one an open tourer and the other a limousine. At our first meeting he said that he understood that I drove a sports car but he showed no particular interest, and didn’t even ask what make. He only told me that he would not have his Grandchildren being driven around in noisy and dangerous sports cars. I told him that mine was a Rover, was very quiet, and that I drove very carefully; I suggested that he should come and look at my car which was outside. He said that he would look at it on another occasion, and he called for his chauffeur, Shears, and told him to show me his

own cars. Shears, very respectful and attentive to his master, was much less civil, and even rather surly, to me as he led me to the spacious

forecourt and large garage. The limousine was not the Rolls Royce or Daimler that I expected but — of all things — a Buick! This was a more or less mass-produced American car, but the largest of the Buick range.

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On this unlikely chassis was a magnificent enclosed-drive limousine body that had been specially built for John Long by the Carlton Carriage Company of Edgware Road. The comfort and luxury provided in the rear compartment, which had two occasional seats to supplement the main seating, was every bit as fine as Hoopers and Barkers provided with a Rolls-Royce. Penny hated the car, and said it always made her feel sick because of the very soft ride. John Long was excessively proud of that Buick, claiming that it was more comfortable and quieter than the rather similar Rolls-Royces of his friends. The Buick was used only for town work, mostly for John Long’s many attendances at Masonic functions. He informed me that he was a member of Grand Lodge, which meant absolutely nothing to me, but I tried to look impressed. Previous limousines, always with special bodies by Carlton had been on Daimler, Wolseley, Wolseley-Siddley and Metallurgique chassis. The other car alongside the Buick in the garage was an open four-seater Humber for touring. This carried Humber’s own coach work, and, like the Buick, seemed to be in

fine condition. John Long always travelled in the rear compartment in his cars and never sat with the chauffeur. In the Humber he was protected by an Auster rear windscreen and tonneau. Apparently, he had never driven himself and never wanted to, yet he was a most enthusiastic motorist. I understood that The Motor was delivered every week, but I rather doubt if he ever read it, and every year he visited the Motor Show at Olympia, accompanied by Shears and the Managing Director of The Carlton Carriage Company. My guess is that the Managing Director of Carlton was a Mason! The tourer was only used during the summer months, mostly for touring Scotland and Wales. Previous tourers had been Sunbeam, Wolseley and Daimler. Penny told me that she enjoyed an occasional run in the tourer when her Grandfather took them out to tea on a summer Sunday to the Rose and Crown at Tring or to some other fashionable hostelry. Shears was a slow and careful driver, which suited his master, but he was not much of a mechanic. Tho cars, and Shears, had an easy life as the local garage was entrusted with all the

ST it pO 5 regular servicing. John Long was an interesting personality, in his seventies when I first met him. He was very short and stocky with bright blue eyes and a confident manner. Proud of being self-made, he was a bit cocky but at least was without any pretence. He was Chairman and Managing Director of a large group of jewellers and pawnbrokers in London. Typically he said he was a pawnbroker when other far less successful men would have styled themselves as Company Directors. He told his grandchildren, ‘““Don’t ever be ashamed that I was a pawnbroker, because that’s where most of the money comes from’’. Over the years we established a reasonable rapport, but I don’t believe he ever trusted me. By most standards, certainly by mine, he was a very wealthy man. Like many men who made it themselves, he was very wary of others who might be after his money. It was pretty obvious that I was not at all monied, but even more important in his eyes was that fact that I was leading a self-indulgent and wasteful life and not even interested in making money. Compared with the cars in my family, most of which were rather dull, it seemed that Penny’s uncles and aunts had much more interesting cars — fast Sunbeams, Vauxhalls and an Alfa Romeo. Penny showed me pictures of the cars owned by her favourite Aunt who was also her Godmother. She started her motoring in a sports DFP, a make associated with W.O. Bentley. Already I was at a disadvantage, I certainly couldn’t match that one.

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Penny’s Godmother driving her DFP.

For 1937, the works ERAs had independent front suspension. Peter Berthon liked the Porsche system used in the Auto-Unions and was convinced that this was the best layout for ERAs. This, together with Lockheed hydraulic brakes and Zoller

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superchargers completed the innovations for the new C-Type ERA. R4B and R12B were modified and, accordingly, renumbered R4C

and R12C. Raymond Mays’ own car, R4C had the left-hand side steering box modification as compensation for Ray’s short left arm. When he was nine years old Ray had fallen out of an apple tree in the garden at Eastgate House (climbing, even in those days!) breaking his left arm. In hospital the arm was incorrectly set leaving his left arm about two inches shorter than the night. This was no real disadvantage, only his tailor and shirtmaker having to make allowances. On an ordinary car Ray found no difficulty, but

in an ERA, which had the steering box on the right chassis member, the steering wheel was angled so that the left-hand side of the rim was about two inches further away than the right-hand side. In Ray’s case he had to compensate for a difference of four inches, quite a lot, so obviously if the steering box on Ray’s car could be placed on the left side chassis member the difference would be completely nullified. This modification was carried out on R4B in the winter of 1935/6 and it was easily compatible with the new IFS. Though I did not see any of it, I was very pleased that Lord Howe had a most successful winter session in South Africa with R8B and his lovely 3.3 Bugatti. He was accompanied by Pat Fairfield who used the 1100cc engine in R4A and he too, had a good season. In England, on a wet day, Ray and Pat drove the new C-Type ERAs in the British Empire Trophy at Donington. I went up with a fellow ERA Club member, Reggie Allback, who was a stockbroker. We came in his new 4.3 Alvis and we had a fine run, the Alvis proving ideal transport. Ray had an 1100cc engine in R4C

to take advantage of the handicap for that class whilst Pat used the 1!/2-litre engine. Despite the weather it was a great race and Ray drove superbly, controlling the wheel spin on the high revving 1100 by his distinctive blipping through the corners and sawing at the wheel. Y LAVAS

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Raymond Mays in the British Empire Trophy at Donington in the wet. Note the horizontal wings behind the front wheels protecting the driver from some of the spray.

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Some people criticized his technique, suggesting that it was untidy, preferring Pat Fairfield’s single opening of the throttle and much less movement of the steering wheel. On that wet track there was a fine opportunity of assessing their cornering. I spent a lot of time with my stop watch at two of the corners, Starkeys and Red Gate. I found that Ray was noticeably faster and he won the race with some ease.

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ERA victory in the International trophy. Ray, the winner, with Humphrey and Madge Cook at Donington.

The most spectacular cornering in that race was achieved by Peter Walker. He used a very ‘speedway’ technique of holding the car on a full-blooded sideways skid. He kept the throttle wide open spinning the rear wheels. In order to cope with the amount of opposite lock steering wheel movement, Peter crossed his hands on the wheel whilst in the straight forward position and unwound them to a normal position when the tail slid out. Very amusing and good value for the spectators and also for Peter who obviously enjoyed it immensely. But according to my stop watch this was not quite the fastest way round the corner. I was seeing a good deal of Lord Howe at the time, and had some good rides with him on the road, but mostly in London. In the entrance hall of his flat he had a full-size photograph of himself

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Peter Whitehead in RIOB. This is the car now owned and

raced by Nick Mason, of

‘Pink Floyd’ fame.

in his racing overalls, pasted on to a wooden frame cut-out. This stood by the door and in the half-light you could think that it was really him. In a strange way, I think that was typical. He was a very honest and modest person, and he always played himself down. He said he hated being photographed and his family always joked about him ‘scowling at the photographers’. At the same time, he very much cared about the presentation of his cars and himself. He loved the Howe blue and silver. Some people saw a strange contradiction there but I understood perfectly. I accompanied him on one occasion when he was driving his

Type 57 SC Bugatti coupé on a main road near London and he was being held up by another car. To our side, was a fairly wide pavement in front of some shops, but at that moment the pavement was deserted. The Old Man engaged second gear, put his foot down, swept up onto the pavement, all four wheels on the path, inside a lamp post and shot past the other car. I could scarcely

believe that he was really doing it. He bumped back down onto the road at high speed. It was a daring transgression that very few people would even consider. I didn’t say anything — in fact I was speechless. The Old Man made no comment, but after a mile or two he turned to me and said, “A good thing there was nobody on the pavement’’. I can’t remember if I replied, I was a bit shattered by the experience, but didn’t want him to notice. There had only been just enough room on the pavement inside that lamp post. The Old Man had terrific judgement. At about that time we sold several exciting cars from Kensington. Sir John and Lady Chubb were very good customers; they were excellent drivers who liked glamourous and unusual cars. I took Lady Chubb to Brooklands in their Type 540K Mercedes — the short roadster which was the fastest car in the Mercedes range. It was very much a road car equally suitable for town traffic or the

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open road but not for competitions. The 540K was luxuriously appointed with a padded hood and glass wind-up windows. Apart from that one run to Brooklands I drove it mostly in London where, I confess, I really loved it, with its extravagant appearance, perfect traffic manners and handling. When one pressed the loud pedal that extra inch there was a very exciting scream from the supercharger and fine acceleration. However, at over about 70 miles an hour on the open road and certainly on the Brooklands track, that Mercedes did feel rather a handful, a great big lump of a car. I couldn’t help comparing it with Lord Howe’s much earlier 38-250 but it was an unfair comparison for that was a real competition model. The 540K was not in the same street as cars like the 41/2-litre Lagonda, Speed 20 Alvis, 105 Talbot or any Bentley. I never took any times at Brooklands but I doubt if I ever achieved 90 anywhere. Landing after the big bump was decidedly uncomfortable with too much spring movement. Yet I certainly loved that model in London. John Chubb’s next car was another interesting machine, a centrifugal supercharged front wheel drive Cord, with a lovely Cotal gearbox operated by a tiny little gear lever in a miniature gate on a stalk behind the steering wheel. The styling and finish of the coachwork was excellent and in very good taste. Though it had quite a lot of performance I could not chuck it about. The steering and all the controls were very light and the gearbox was a delight. Despite this it never felt like a sports car. I never had the opportunity of taking it round Brooklands but on a good fast run up the Great North Road I found it was surprisingly stable at what the speedometer said was 90 — probably only about 80. Though only a touring car, I have a feeling that it would have been better at Brooklands than the 540K Mercedes. The big excitement at Brooklands in 1937 was the new Campbell road circuit. I walked round this with Sammy Davis and Malcolm when it was under construction. They told me that the corners leaving the Railway Straight and approaching the new bridge over the Wey were going to be banked and Campbell produced drawings showing quite steep bankings with a low wall as at Montlhery. As this was part of the new road circuit the bankings were going to be made on a constant level instead of on a radius like the Byfleet and Members Banking. In this way, no extra banking advantage could be obtained by taking the outside of a corner, unlike the situation with the other bankings at Brooklands. However, the cost was considered to be too high and the finished corners were almost flat, only slightly super-elevated so that rain water would run down the inside. I had hoped to be going with Humphrey Cook and Ray to the Deauville Grand Prix where three works cars were entered. There were going to be three Zoller-blown 1!/2-litre cars to be driven by Ray, Humphrey and Marcel Lehoux. However, Peter was busy modifying the cars and the plan was changed. None of us went to Deauville but one car was made ready for Lehoux. Marcel had been staying at Eastgate House. He and Lorna

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Berthon jabbered away in French but when he spoke in English he had a charming accent very much like Maurice Chevalier. When I remarked upon this Lorna left the room and returned a few minutes later with a man’s hat which she put on Marcel’s head at a rakish angle. Then she tried to pull his lower lip out to simulate the Chevalier appearance, all this amidst much laughter, and it was typical of the attractive and animated Lorna. Marcel, like Ray, had a great liking for hill climbing and was going to drive an ERA at the next Shelsley Meeting. At Deauville there was a great tragedy. A terrible accident occurred when Farina’s Alfa-Romeo ran into the back of Lehoux’s ERA. Marcel died in hospital, never having recovered consciousness from his injuries. The car, R3B, was extensively damaged so was broken up for spares. Everyone at Bourne was very shocked and Humphrey flew to France for the funeral. I remember so well that evening at Eastgate House only a few days previously; Marcel in such good form and looking forward to the rest of the season. It is a poignant memory. The new Campbell circuit was not finished in time for the Easter Monday Meeting, so we had to be content with Mountain Races. Peter Monkhouse had been rebuilding the ex de Belleroche Austin 7 for Gordon Brettell. This was a very effective little car which Peter had driven himself in the Inter Varsity Speed Trials, and now Gordon, who was the Secretary of the Cambridge University Automobile Club, was going to drive it at Brooklands. His previous racing car had also been a much lightened Austin 7. At Donington he had surprised everyone by out-cornering much faster MGs which had whizzed passed him on the straight every lap, only to be caught every time at the sharp corner at Starkeys. On Easter Monday Gordon had a great day winning the first Mountain Race and getting a third place in the second race despite

a re-handicap. I watched those races at the top corner and saw that Gordon was right on the limit, sliding up to the lip of the banking every lap. He was a lot faster than any other of the private Austins. Pat Driscoll said that Gordon was as quick round the corners as the works car, and really ought to be driving in the team. Raymond Mays was a bit worried, because Austin Dobson said Gordon was

going to go for the Mountain lap record in the bimotore Alfa Romeo and obviously that car had the required speed. I comforted Ray when IJ told him that I had watched the bimotore round corners and was sure that it was too cumbersome for the Mountain. When Dobson went for the record I watched from my special place at the Fork where I was able to time a car as it went behind the Fork Grandstand and past it again on the Finishing Straight. It was quite slow in comparison with any ERA, let alone Ray’s and Dobson failed to get the record. I really disliked the bimotore, such as ungainly car, made even uglier by the two regulation Brooklands silencers. At the next Brooklands meeting I saw the brave Gordon Brettell overcook the top corner in the little Monaco-prepared Austin 7. He had been going faster and faster into that corner, just scrubbing enough speed off the car as it slid up the banking. Then an even faster approach brought the car sliding sideways at a pace

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that took it right up over the top into the trees and bushes. To our great relief, Gordon climbed out of the car and waved to indicate that he was all right. The car wasn’t too badly bent either. At Club events at Donington I met two other young men who made Austin Sevens go outstandingly fast: Rod Turner and Ken Wharton. They did their own tuning and modifications with great effect, fooling the handicappers and winning races against the odds. On one occasion Wharton was towing his racing Austin back to his garage in Birmingham behind another old Austin 7. Peter

Berthon and I stopped, seeing him broken down just beyond Donington. He did not need help, but we watched him removing most of the engine of the racer and fitting the parts to the towing Austin. The whole contraption looked precarious, but Ken got it going and was soon on his way. He was a very determined chap, and a very good and promising driver. The opening Campbell circuit race was on the Ist May and I spent most of the previous week at the track. Ray and Pat had the two new C-Types and the Old Man was running his own R8B as part of the works team. The C-Types had great speed but continuous brake trouble, spending most of the time in the pits. Bira had the rebuilt Delage running quite well on Tuesday afternoon but I thought they had spoiled its appearance by a new rounded cowl over the radiator. Bira told me that the new chassis with IFS handled well but it wasn’t yet fast enough so they were running the 2.9 Maserati. This was the ex-Straight Number two car, the one not complying with Grand Prix regulations, with its narrow body. I was early at Brooklands on race day and learned that Pat Fairfield’s car had been scratched and only Ray was running a C-Type. Talking to Humphrey, we were looking through the practice times. He said, ““The Old Man is going splendidly, as fast as anyone including Ray and Bira’’. He told me that it was Lord Howe’s 45th birthday and that I should go and wish him Many Happy Returns. I did so, and I congratulated him on his very fast practice times. He seemed on good form, wearing a jacket over his blue overalls, a red carnation in his buttonhole, smoking one of his

special big cigarettes in his long holder and wearing his cap at the typical rakish angle. The car was immaculately presented and the whole turnout looked very attractive. The new circuit looked like a good thing for ERAs and there were a goodly number for the first event including Peter Walker, Arthur Dobson, Denis Scribbans, Reggie Tongue and Ian Connell. Right from the start it was obvious that the brake trouble with the C-Type ERA had not been cured, so Ray was not in the hunt at all. It was just Bira in the big Maserati and Lord Howe in R8B leading the field and drawing away from the rest. For about twenty laps Bira led, driving as fast as he could, but unable to shake off the Old Man. After watching the first few laps from the ERA pits I went up on top so that I could see most of the course. Then, to my great joy, I saw the Old Man outbrake Bira at the exit from the Railway Straight. Despite a rather hairy corner with the ERA sliding about almost onto the grass at the end of the corner, he made it and led the Maserati past the pits. The next few laps were

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tremendous with the Old Man just leading Bira by a second or two.

Then approaching the turn before the new bridge he made a mistake. It is said that he glanced behind him, or perhaps he just attempted the corner too fast. Anyhow, he was right on the limit, he hit the parapet of the bridge on the outside of the corner and the ERA went end over end. Lord Howe was thrown out and the car landed beyond him on its wheels again.

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During the Campbell Trophy at Brooklands — The ‘great duel’. At ‘Dunlop’s Delight’, Bira is acknowledging Lord Howe’s action which allowed him to overtake on the approach to the corner.

After Lord Howe’s accident, R8B landed back on its four wheels again. His mechanic, Sydney Maslyn, is holding Lord Howe’s helmet. In the background, Charles Follett is talking to Lord Brecknock.

SF 1 ZA IO 6. I did not actually see it happen. I happened to be looking the other way and when I turned round the dust was settling, the Old Man was lying on the ground, and the crumpled car was on its wheels facing the wrong way. It looked just about as serious as it could be. I remained on the top of the pits, dumbfounded. When the ambulance passed, I could see down through the windows, the Old Man lying on the stretcher. I dashed back to the pits. Lord Howe’s new young wife, Joyce, whom he had met in South Africa and to whom he had only been married a few months, had gone on to the hospital. Sydney Maslyn, who had recently joined him as mechanic, returned to the pits having inspected the ERA. He and Charles Follett, who had been at the scene of the accident, were not

at all optimistic about Lord Howe’s condition. The situation sounded very grave and the general opinion was that even if he recovered there was little hope of him ever racing again. I remember little of the rest of the race. ERAs did not do well. It was a Maserati race, Bira scored a good victory, and the very popular Teddy Rayson was a splendid second place with his old single-seater. As soon as the race was over, Ray hurried to the hospital and in due course we learned that Lord Howe’s injuries were not quite as serious as we had feared and his life was in no immediate danger. That evening Humphrey and Madge Cook entertained a large party which included the Chula/Bira équipe at their house in Brook Street just off Hyde Park. The jollity was marred by our fears for Lord Howe.

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Through Roland King-Farlow I was able to join a party inspecting a new racing track being laid out at the Crystal Palace in London.

The project was very exciting and promising, and the circuit looked to be just the job for road racing cars like ERAs. This was of special interest to me because I remembered the Crystal Palace from the First World War. My father was stationed there in the Royal Naval Air Service for a year or two, and the family lived at nearby Norwood. At this time I was so involved with ERAs that I saw very little of sports car racing; I even missed going to Le Mans. The first I heard of Pat Fairfield’s fatal accident in a Frazer Nash-BMW was a phone call from Bourne. So soon after Lord Howe’s accident at Brooklands, our team seemed doomed to disasters. Pat was loved

by all of us. Only a few days before Le Mans I remember Humphrey saying that as the ‘Old Man’ was making a splendid recovery, he reckoned that we had an ideal team for next season of Ray, Pat and Lord Howe with Humphrey himself as reserve, as that was the position he preferred — entrant and reserve driver. 1937 brought more competition for ERAs in the shape of a new model 6C Maserati. A team of these cars entered by Scuderia

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The beautiful 6C Maserati.

ay EH) Ambrosiana and driven by Count Trossi, Count Lurani and Villoresi ran in all the principal events. Though I loved the traditional and workmanlike ERA, I thought that the 6C Maserati was the most beautiful racing car I had ever seen. The finish was absolutely superb, and I still think that model was just about the best looking racing car ever. I drove one round the Campbell circuit for a couple of laps. In fact, that was the only car I ever drove on that course and I wish now that I had driven it a bit faster. It was lovely to handle, with beautiful balance and, in truth, easier to

drive than an ERA, despite the crash gearbox. It was fast but never quite fast enough. Robin Hanson and Johnny Wakefield drove examples of that model, and it was Johnny’s that I drove round the Campbell circuit whilst he followed in his Alta. When I raved about the design and workmanship to Peter Front view.

Berthon, he agreed — “Built like a watch,” he said — but he

reckoned that they were not very strong and wouldn’t last. An interesting comment, and I think he might have been right. Another really beautiful racing car of that period was the twin-cam Austin. I came to know Pat Driscoll, who was their No. | driver, and who, like Charles Goodacre and most of the Austin

team, was a good engineer and was in demand for other teams. I had a ride with Pat in one of their Le Mans cars, known as Grasshoppers, and I drove it at their Longbridge Test Track. It handled very much like an Ulster, with the same minimal clutch movement. On the same day, we watched Kay Petre driving one ot the earlier side-valve racing Austins on test at Donington. Kay fell

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Kay Petre in practice driving the works side-valve Austin.

in love with that model, which Lord Austin had painted in Kay’s own special blue. In one way or another, over the years, I seem to have been involved with, or at least seen, rather a lot of exciting fires — I have always tended to follow a fire engine in the hope of seeing something exciting. One evening, after a session with my friends at Scotland Yard, I returned to Kensington High Street Garage to fill up with petrol. The man at the pump told me that there was a

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rumour that the Crystal Palace was on fire. Kensington Garage was a tall building and I happened to know the way onto the roof so I went up. Sure enough, there was a red glow in the sky in the direction of the Crystal Palace. I jumped into the 105 Talbot again and drove off as fast as I could. I was able to park it in one of the little side streets close to the blazing inferno. For that it certainly was — the whole structure of that great glass building, and one of the twin towers were ablaze. There were dozens of fire engines, and hundreds of firemen and police, and miles of hosepipes and water everywhere.

I scaled a fence and joined the excitement. I soon found a senior police officer and told him that I was attached to Scotland Yard. I don’t think he really believed me, I hadn’t got a police

warrant card or anything, but he let me go round with him so I got very close to the action. It was a fantastic conflagration. Firemen high on the turntable ladders squirted gallons of water, and both the firemen and the police risked their lives amongst falling walls, but nothing could save the Crystal Palace.

By 5 o’clock in the morning the main excitement was over. I was very dirty, hungry and thirsty so I decided to call it a day (or rather a night), but, dammit — I just couldn’t remember where I had left the car. There were dozens of little streets in that area, and they all looked the same. It took me the best part of another hour before I found that 105 Talbot. It had been an interesting night and though, of course, I did not know it at the time, it was a fitting

prelude to me for even bigger fires a few years later. Telephone calls to Weybridge Hospital and to Penn brought increasingly good news as Lord Howe was making wonderful progress. Apparently, he was already asking for the car to be repaired in time for him to drive in the forthcoming London Grand Prix. This was to be held in July at the new Crystal Palace Circuit, the plans for which had gone ahead, in spite of the fire. Leslie Callingham told me that the car would be ready, but in no way could the Old Man be fit enough in so short a time. Amongst many enjoyable sprint events I always liked the Lewes Speed Trials and also the Poole Speed Trials. At the 1937

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Lewis Speed Trials. H.R. Godfrey bending over the driver of one of his G.N. cars.

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Neil Gardiner, who later owned Great Auclum, driving his Delage, later owned and raced by Nigel Arnold-Forster.

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Poole Speed Trials. In the foreground the Evans family’s N-Type MG Magnettes and further down the lane, Carl Skinner’s little coupé and

Barbara Skinner driving her Special.

Poole event I spent most of my time with the Skinner and Bolster families. Carl Skinner, who was the Managing Director of the SU Carburettor Company, had a fierce contraption, a tiny little fixed head coupé, derived, I think, from a Morris Minor chassis, and

engined by a highly tuned 4-litre Hudson unit. Carl’s son and daughter, Peter and Barbara, also drove weird contraptions. Peter

had another very small Morris chassis fitted with a 2!/2-litre | six-cylinder MG Tigress engine. Barbara, who married John Bolster, had a supercharged Morris Minor with negligible bodywork, and the supercharger was a very big Zoller, similar to those that we were using in our C-Type ERAs. John Bolster was using one of his JAP-engined specials, either his well known ‘Bloody Mary’ or his later incredible four-engined special. John’s brother, Richard, was driving his MG

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Richard Bolster in his supercharged Bolster Special.

Magna/GN Special. They all drove with skill and courage and obviously enjoyed every minute, and they were great company. At Poole I was very pleased that Charlie Martin made fastest time of the day in his ERA, which was painted red, making it unique amongst ERAs. I remember an amusing incident when Richard Bolster was making some last minute modifications to the chassis of his Special at a Donington meeting. After practice, late one afternoon, we took the car to Michael McEvoy’s workshop in Derby. There was quite a lot of work to do and it was getting late. Richard told me that when it was finished he would give it a good test run up the road. As it was not licensed, I asked if I could help by lending him my trade plates. He thanked me but said he wouldn’t need any plates because he only did his road testing in the dark. Of course, he had no lights so there was no point in having any plates — typical Bolster. Lord Howe kept most of his exciting cars at his country house at Penn in Buckinghamshire, but he retained the garage behind Curzon House, even when Curzon House was sold. The Old

Man had a small flat just down the road from his old home in Curzon Street and always had a town car which was normally kept in London. He liked a small car for town work and over the years

he had some very interesting examples. For a time he had an F-Type MG Magna coupé and this was followed by an L-Type Magna with the rare Continental coupé body. That car was his favourite for London for a long time, and I rode with him in it several times. He loved its bottom end performance, handy size and its strikingly smart appearance. It amused him to leave black lines on the road as he left Curzon Street with a racing getaway. Sydney

Maslyn, his chief mechanic at that time, warned him that the back axle would not last if he continued to do this. Sure enough, one day in Curzon Street, when his Lordship lifted the clutch with the engine on song — there were no black lines and only a large clonk as a half-shaft broke. I think that Lord Howe’s L-Type MG Continental coupé inspired me to have an MG coupé of my own. Needless to say, mine was a horse of a different colour, a long way down the line: a very second-hand M-Type coupé. In those days, my cars usually

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‘Matthew’, my M-Type MG Midget coupé with Penny, and Douglas Hawes. Note my Club badges of that period — Barnet and District Motor Club, ERA

Club and Brooklands Automobile Racing Club. Looks as though we are spring cleaning the Midget. With me are Penny, my youngest brother, Michael, and ‘Beano’.

Connolly’s catalogue picture of the coupé.

had to be open sports models — anything with a roof was out. Even with an open sports car one seldom put the hood up, and if the screen could be folded down onto the scuttle, then it was kept in the down position most of the time. An aero screen or a raised cowl was enough for most of us most of the time, but in the winter evenings, particularly for dinners and dances, it was rather chilly, so there was something to be said for a coupé. That cold Autumn presaged a cold Winter — nature being what it is. At the same time I had acquired that new and exciting girlfriend and I thought it likely that I would be engaged in an ever

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increasing amount of snogging. In an open car, even with the sidescreen up (and no open sports car really looked the part with sidescreens up) one’s wooing was at a disadvantage. Don’t misunderstand me, the 1930s was by no means a permissive age, but I felt (come to think of it — that’s about all I did do!) that I should buy that little Midget coupé. I fetched the car from the vendors, University Motors. On the way out of London, in a traffic jam, I collected a taxi. There was no real damage, only a dented wing. From then on, my little M-Type MG Midget coupé was named Matthew, after the Saint in the Good Book, who also collected taxes. We kept that snug little coupé right through the winter and to the end of the Spring, then I flogged it. Sounds rather like the Roman Empire doesn’t it? My next car was one of the best ever though it was quite a modest machine; a 1931 Riley Nine tourer. I got it from Jimmy James who was a friend and a leading Riley agent. The year of ’31

In my Riley Nine at Brooklands.

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Penny with the Riley in our special bay at the Crystal Palace. We seem to have won another car badge, supporting Lord Brabazon as a member of the ‘Order of the Road’.

STi WE was a very good year for Rileys and this had all the best features, including the big brakes. Though the tourer didn’t sound all that sporting it was in fact a brisk performer. George Eyston ran one very successfully in the 1930 six-hour race. Mine was in excellent shape and even the fabric coachwork was almost as new. Carl Skinner soon fixed me up with a couple of big SUs and Dunlop Mac kept me supplied with part-worn Dunlop cord racing tyres. For the more serious snogging, I was usually able to borrow a sports saloon — Talbot 75s and 105s were great favourites, they were high-sided four-light saloons with deep capacious rear seating. A close friend of mine, who shall be nameless, said that he

used to persuade his girlfriends to sit in the middle of the back seat and put each ankle through the looped silk rope pulls which dangled by the rear doors. The mind tends to boggle at this, but knowing this adventurer as I did, I am sure that a good time was had by all. Testing the new C-Type ERA at Donington was

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disappointing because the new hydraulic brakes were still playing up. The front brakes were locking and were still not right for the opening meeting of the new Crystal Palace Circuit, so Peter Berthon decided to run the new cars with the old 16 inch wheels, and in practice that seemed a bit better. On the day Ray was fastest, but using the brakes hard they soon failed and Pat Fairfield, with a slower lap speed, scored a

good victory with R12C. The tight circuit suited our cars well and a new private owner, Denis Scribbans, did very well indeed. The tail pipe came adrift in his car but he managed to hold it with his left hand for several laps. Aubrey Esson-Scott had spoiled the appearance of his beautiful Type 51A Bugatti with a new streamlined single-seater body. He had a rather spectacular but undamaging accident. Afterwards he told me that I was right in criticizing the new body, though I do not suppose that the body caused the accident. Aubrey

Aubrey Essen-Scott with his immaculate black and silver Type 51 Bugatti.

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Startling line for a Mountain Handicap. ‘Ebby’ flags away the Boyd-Carpenter Austin. Waiting to go. Dick Oats can be seen talking to Charles Follett in his Speed 20 Alvis, Ronnie Horton’s MG, Everitt’s

Q-Type, Essen-Scott and I think that front is Peter Aitken’s single-seater Frazer-Nash.

was one of the most dashing of the Bugatti drivers, a striking personality. Everything had to be black and silver and immaculate —not only his cars but everything else, his clothes and chattels. When he started farming, all his agricultural equipment, including

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the tractors, were shining black and silver, presented as for a concours d’élégance. Dialogue with Aubrey was always amusing because he was as knowledgeable on l'amour as on Bugattis. When he talked of ‘warming her up’, ‘taking everything off and ‘achieving a lot of poke’ — one really did not know to which activity he was referring. For me, the International Trophy at Brooklands in 1937, was something of a landmark. I brought my new girlfriend, Penny, to Brooklands for the first time. The choice was a good one: girl and race. It really was one of those races, I so wanted Ray to win and he certainly did. To start with he had a great dice with Bira who was driving the 2.9 Maserati, and the cars were well matched. Though we spent some time in the ERA pits, we watched most of the race from the balcony above. At the height of their battle it was very interesting to note the tactics of the drivers. Bira left his braking a fraction later than Ray, so going into the corners faster, and Ray, braking early, and using his blipping technique was able to put the power down earlier. It seemed that their total cornering time was exactly the same, but Ray’s tactics enabled him to overtake and maintain his lead. Eventually, the Maserati engine went bang in a big way. Looking over the balcony down to the pits, when they raised the bonnet of the Maserati, I could see that it was covered in oil. The car was retired, Ray eased up and ran home a fine winner, with

Johnny Wakefield second in his very pretty 6C Maserati, and Billy

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Lord Howe, George Eyston and Billy Cotton.

Gordon Clarridge driving his Le Mans Replica Frazer Nash at Prescott.

Cotton with Wilkie Wilkinson a very popular third in the Bellevue prepared K3 MG Magnette. There was great happiness in the Bourne contingent, and it meant much to me being able to bring Penny into such a happy party with a jubilant Ray, Peter, Humphrey, Madge and of course, Lorna Berthon. The Bugatti Owners Club purchased the Prescott Estate near Cheltenham, and made it into a fine Speed Hill Climb, rather like

Below, right. Peter Hampton with his beautiful little Mercedes at Prescott. A 1922,

L!|2-liter, four-cylinder model, built for the Targa Florio, exquisitely rebuilt in excellent taste.

Shelsley Walsh, but with more corners. I enjoyed the Prescott Meetings because the BOC organized everything so well, with the right atmosphere, not too much officialdom, and fine racing in

beautiful surroundings. In 1937 as far as British enthusiasts were concerned the big event was the Donington Grand Prix featuring the German

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Auto-Unions and Mercedes. Until that event our stories of the German cars, and even George Monkhouse’s wonderful films, failed to convince the British public of the wide gulf between the performances of even the best of the other Continentals and the German teams. Those of us who had seen the Auto-Unions and Mercedes knew that it wasn’t only the difference of speed, but it was the magnitude of the whole operation — armies of technicians and mechanics, mountains of spares and even spare cars all ready for racing. At Donington everyone could see that no one else was even in the picture. The words ‘Grand Prix’, used casually over here for almost every motor racing event, now had a new meaning. The British, which really meant ERA, were merely a background to the

silver projectiles of Germany. Post-war motor racing enthusiasts used to seeing Grand Prix racing on television, would be astonished to see the amount of opposite lock and sliding about on the road (and on the grass) in the Grand Prix at Donington. It was very bad luck that Dick

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Dowson misjudges Orchard hairpin with the Lightweight Special at Prescott.

Seaman, the only British driver in the German teams, was shunted by an Auto-Union in the early part of the race preventing his car from being fully competitive. Rosemeyer and Brauchitsch were the star performers, finishing in that order, the Auto-Union only about half a minute ahead of the Mercedes. For some reason or other Rudi Caracciola did not shine at Donington. I thought that he would have been the likely winner because of his experience of the British scene. We had a special enclosure for the ERA Club but though everyone was thrilled with the Auto-Union and Mercedes performance, the race underlined what a long way we had to go to be competitive in a real Grand Prix. In the competitors’ paddock it was nice to see Madge Cook’s Rolls-Royce limousine carrying the ERA Club Badge. The new ERA sports car project was coming along nicely. First drawings were approved, some engine details completed and castings ordered. Originally planned as a 4-litre, and always referred to as such, it eventually turned out to be 4,343cc. with a 4-inch stroke and a bore of 3.75 inches. Murray Jamieson’s specification included an electron block with wet liners. It was arranged that as soon as a running chassis was complete I would leave Kensington High Street Garage and joins ERAs at Bourne to promote the new

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sports car.

When Lord Howe obtained his ERA, he sold his Maserati. I,

for one, was jolly glad because I had seen him having too many nasty moments in that car. ‘George’ Cholmondeley-Tapper was the new owner and we ragged him about it, asking him if he had made

Prescott, July 1938. The Friekaiserwagon leaving Pardon hairpin in a power slide.

a will and all that sort of thing. We needn’t have worried. George was a quite exceptional conductor. His previous experience was first of all with that Type 37 Bugatti in which his friend Eileen Ellison and he were remarkably successful on the Continent, and recently he had been driving a Monza Alfa-Romeo in South Africa. Though he was not well known over here, he already had a good reputation on the Continent, and Pat Fairfield reckoned that he could have been the greatest. When Kay Petre bought Ray’s White Riley I began to see

her often, not only with the Riley but when she drove in other teams. She really was an outstanding driver. She asked a lot of questions and was a good listener, able to remember details. Some of our private ERA drivers would have been more successful had they asked as many questions as Kay did. I think some young men are inclined to consider themselves above being taught driving. A girl like Kay had no such inhibitions. With a car new to her she always did one very slow lap to get the hang of it, and then she very soon got it right and was as fast as anyone. Murray Jamieson always sang her praises. Though I have known Kay for more than fifty years I find it difficult to place her motor racing enthusiasm. She was never a car enthusiast in quite the same way as Jill Thomas, “Bill? Wisdom or Doreen Evans who all enthused over their favourite makes. Being

very intelligent, Kay knew all about the dangers, and her greatest quality was her bravery. Presentation was very important to Kay. I remember her

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Kay Petre in the single-seater side-valve Austin at Shelsley Walsh.

Raymond Mays, Kay Petre and Amy Johnson, the famous aviator. Above, right. A congratulatory kiss. They have both won, Ray’s Hill Record and Kay’s Ladies Record at Shelsley Walsh.

being worried because her racing shoes had been painted the wrong blue. We went to a lot of trouble repainting them exactly to match her overalls. The BRDC 500 at Brooklands at the end of 1937 was completely ruined for me by Kay’s bad accident. In fact I can remember very little of the race because we were all so worried about her. In practice she was driving one of the original Murray Jamieson special side-valve single seater Austins, which Lord Austin had painted in her blue. Bert Hadley and Charles Goodacre were driving the later OHC models. During the last practice session after a heavy fall of rain all the Austins were going well. On the Byfleet banking Kay was holding a steady position about twenty feet below the ten foot line. Reg Parnell, in his special single-seater K3 MG Magnette, came up fast just above the ten foot line, skidded with the tail sliding upwards, Parnell over-corrected as he caught Kay Petre and the tail of the MG hit the side of the Austin. Both cars crashed out of control and both drivers were thrown out. Reg was unhurt but Kay was severely injured.

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She was taken to Weybridge Cottage Hospital, and for several days the only news was that she was unconscious with severe head injuries. Kay’s husband, Henry, Reg Parnell, and all her many friends were desperately worried. It was nobody’s fault though it was Reg Parnell’s mistake. One just has to face the fact that that sort of risk is part of motor racing. In order to minimize such risks, disciplinary measures have to be taken. Reg was quite correctly prevented from further racing that year by the removal of his licence, and Reg quite understood this. When, eventually, Kay

recovered enough, I saw that she was badly scarred but still had wonderful spirit. There were no hard feelings between her and Reg.

I believe the person most upset was Lord Austin who decided that the car was never to be rebuilt or sold. It was some long time before Kay was fit to drive again, but in due course I went down to Brooklands to see her have a drive in the Riley. Kay, bandaged, and with a large plaster on her forehead, climbed into the Riley. She was wearing her blue overalls but not wearing a crash helmet, only her little blue Grenfell cloth helmet.

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Kay Petre, after recovering from her Brooklands accident, has a practice run in the Riley.

She did several laps at moderate speed and said afterwards that she reckoned that she would be perfectly OK for racing again. Later on she had another go at Crystal Palace, but decided that she had done enough motor racing and would only do rallies in the future. The Riley passed to Percy McLure, and Kay became motoring correspondent of the Daily Mail and did a number of rallies, judged concours d’élégance and other motoring activities. At Bourne it was considered time that some sort of Grand Prix version of the ERA should be produced, but there was no way in which the existing 2-litre engine could be enlarged to the necessary 3-litre. So, to make a start, a 2.2-litre engine was made,

and Peter and Aubrey Barrett set to designing a new chassis. I saw the first drawings of a much lower frame, more or less the same

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front suspension and a new swing arm rear suspension. The 2.2-litre engine was going to be installed with the biggest Zoller super-charger alongside the block instead of behind it. Costs were rising all the time and Humphrey was wondering if he could continue to finance the project. Ray and Lord Howe took their ERAs to South Africa for the winter season and had some good racing. The Old Man won the Grosvenor Grand Prix in fine style from Taruffi’s Maserati, one of his best successes. Tony Rolt, one of the earliest ERA Club members, bought R5B from the Chula équipe, and had it prepared by Freddie Dixon. When he drove this car at Donington, Peter

Freddie Dixon and Jock Horsfall’s brother looking at Tony Rolts’ new acquisition, the ex-Chula ERA “Remus.”

Berthon and I went together to have a look. We met Tony Rolt and his great friend, ‘Jock’ St. John Horsfall. Jock was a very interesting man; an exceptionally good engineer, very quiet and modest. He was also a very good driver, and though he didn’t look particularly tough he was in fact quite exceptionally strong and hardy. He had been racing his own 1!/2-litre and then later, 2-litre Aston Martins and was becoming quite a name having beaten the works cars on several occasions. We understood that Jock was going to be a joint owner with Tony of RS5B and that Jock and Freddie Dixon had already made some modifications to the car. We saw new radius rods preventing any twisting of the front axle on braking; there had been some trouble from this quarter. Amongst other little modifications we saw that the seat had been put further back in the cockpit and, in fact, the cockpit itself was lengthened because Tony was very tall and wanted to sit further back from the steering wheel. Tony Rolt was immediately successful with that car and drove very hard, demonstrating his strong will to win.

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Tony Rolt at the wheel; note the lengthened cockpit.

Above, right. Achieving immediate success at Donington.

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This ‘will to win’ was by no means universal amongst British racing drivers, even those who purchased ERAs. Quite a lot of our regular amateurs took it fairly easy. I don’t say that they only came for the ride, but there was a noticeable gulf between those who had a great try and others who didn’t press very hard. At British events at that time there were many fine duels between Bira and Arthur Dobson in their ERAs. Both of those drivers always drove hard. Dobson’s car, R7B, was very distinctive with an extra-large high tail and a plated radiator cowl. When Ray and Lord Howe brought their cars back to England from South Africa they were rebuilt for the 1938 season. R4C had a new lightened but strengthened frame built by Rubery Owen with lightening holes all along the sides. There was a new independent front suspension using shorter arms, and the car was renumbered R4D. Lord Howe’s R8B had a new C-Type frame, IFS and Zoller supercharger so was renumbered R8C. Howe was in effect the second member of the works team which suited both Ray and the Old Man. The International Trophy at Brooklands had become one of the most important races in the British calendar, and ERA were going to be very well represented. Ray ran R4B with a special crank giving the engine 1748cc to suit the special handicap of that race. I was present at all the practice sessions and the situation looked very promising. Both our cars ran well and the Old Man expressed himself as delighted with the feel of the independent suspension of R8C. He did several practice standing starts, and despite the fact that the Zoller supercharged cars were more difficult to get off the line than the older cars which had more power at lower revs, he made splendid starts every time. On the day there was going to be a mass start behind a pace car on the old Finishing Straight, just as they did the previous year. I looked forward to Ray’s expertise at this game and expected him to lead

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the pack on the first lap. I left Penny and a couple of friends on top of the pit balcony whilst I went down to the Fork to see the cars on the first corner onto the Campbell circuit, thus, I did not see the tragic accident that overshadowed that International Trophy. Murray Jamieson and Harry Mundy arrived early at the ERA pits. They had been together to one of the ERA suppliers and had been staying overnight close to Brooklands. ‘Jamiey’ was not feeling at all well, having eaten something that did not agree with him the evening before, and though he had been going to do the lap chart for ERA he felt so ill that Harry Mundy took over the

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Using all the road, plus — about to overtake Reg Parnell in the BHW.

job. At the start of the race, ‘Jamiey’ had not got a job to do in the pits, so he walked up by the side of the track with other friends such as Kay Petre and Jill Thomas towards ‘Dunlop’s Delight’, the corner under the Motor Bridge. I saw Ray leading Bira in the Maserati as they started that first lap and there was a mass of cars closely bunched just behind. Apparently, just beyond the pits, J. Paul’s Delage and Lace’s Darracq collided. Paul left the track, mounted the bank beside the grass verge and mowed down several people, all of them walking from the pits. A girl was killed outright and Murray Jamieson was severely injured and died soon after his arrival at Weybridge Hospital. It was some time before I learned of the severity of the accident and there was a dreadful sense of shock in the ERA pits. If the accident had happened at any other time it would have been likely that no one would have been injured. As a rule no-one was there, only perhaps an official on his way to or from the pits. It was too easy to say that no one should have been there, motor racing was not that regimented. We all took a bit of a chance walking close to the racing on such occasions. It was a dreadful

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Above. Raymond Mays with R4D at Shelsley Walsh. Above, right. Ray and R4D on the starting line on the Campbell cirsuit at Brooklands with Kenneth Evans in the Monoposto Alfa-Romeo, Lord Howe, and Billy Cotton in their ERAs.

Pushing up to the starting line for the 1938 International Trophy at Brooklands — Peter Berthon and Lord Howe with the rebuilt ERA R8C. This is the car owned and raced today by Bruce Spollon.

The 1938 International Trophy, Brooklands. The rolling start lap, led by John

Cobb in a 4!/4-litre Bentley coupé.

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Lace’s Darracq against the railing; aftermath of the tragic accident.

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Raymond Mays’ pit stop for refuelling and changing the

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tragedy and a bitter blow to ERAs. Murray was universally popular and a good designer; his best work had been on superchargers. Though Harry Mundy could no doubt have carried on with the work on the sports ERA, Humphrey was emphatic that they should scrap the whole thing. In fact he was so despondent that he began talking of closing down the whole company. When Humphrey got like that it was very difficult to restore his confidence.

In an endeavour to recover some costs from the discarded sports engine, Ray and Peter took the design to A.P. Good in the hope that he would buy it for Lagondas. He was not interested because really there was very little to sell: the one prototype engine had run out briefly on the bench and already it was obvious that a good deal of modification was required.

SL itt (FT I felt very down in the dumps, having more or less burned my boats with Kensington High Street Garage. I had already told Henry Lytton and Denis Burton that I would be leaving them and

going to ERAs in a few months. Fortunately, I had a very good relationship with the company and there was no conflict at all. During the time I had been with them I had brought them quite a lot of business and they gave me the latitude to spend the time I needed at Brooklands and at Bourne. When I told them of the collapse of the project of the sports ERA they told me I would be

Lord Howe coming into ‘Dunlop’s Delight’.

Lord Howe, a quick stop to change a plug and a look underneath.

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— starter motor pushed in, bonnet strapped up, and off

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Charles Follett driving his fully road-equipped Speed 20 Alvis at Donington. He is overtaking Geoffrey Taylor driving one of his own Altas.

welcome to stay in the Sales Department at Kensington. This was a relief, but I had been so looking forward to giving all my time to ERAs. When away from that sort of racing I spent a lot of time with Charles Follett and sports cars. After his racing Alvis, he drove a Lammas Graham, a second generation Lea Francis, and

the lightweight Railton; the last being a really fabulous car. Sometime previously I had a short drive in a early straight eight Railton tourer which Sammy Davis was testing for The Autocar. This was a new sort of car, which in a way, I thought was an ‘aristocratic English Ford V8’. The performance was provided in the same manner, unlike any other British car. The Railton used an elegant squarish radiator very like the Invicta which, after all, had

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Charles overdoes it at

Starkeys Hairpin at Donington.

Below. A fine line-up at Brooklands with Alpine

Talbot, Charles’s still very fully road-equipped Alvis, several Frazer-Nashes, 3-litre Invicta, saloon Railton, Speed

Six Bentley, and the Minerva.

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Charles Follett with the Speed 20 Alvis, now minus most of the road equipment, on the starting line for a BARC handicap beside G.L.Baker’s Graham-Paige. Standing in front of the Graham-Paige is Roland King-Farlow.

A line-up in front of the Paddock grandstand. Charles Follett and Charles Dunham exchange a joke with Dick Oats who is standing on Dunham’s left.

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Now Charles Follett is driving the Lammas Graham, leaving the line at Brooklands with a Brooklands Riley. An interesting line-up, including John Appleton in the Appleton Special, the MG Magic Magnette, Cowell’s Alta, Mike Couper’s Talbot, the Marker-Bentley, and John Cobb in the 4-litre Sunbeam.

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In the event Charles is well placed at the crossing ...

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come from the same stable and the British body was very much in the classic tradition, but supported on obviously American wheels. The controls, too, were a strange Anglo/American mixture. The car was very light indeed and its powerful, silent eight-cylinder engine gave it tremendous torque, even from tick-over. Sammy really raved about that tourer and I, too, loved it.

Now, Charles Follett’s ultra-lightweight example with racing equipment and little abbreviated wings was certainly a flyer. Charles took me round the houses in that car and round the Campbell circuit where it seemed to have pretty good road holding. He did one whole lap of the Campbell circuit in top gear showing me that he could spin the wheels in top soon after the corners. By using second gear (it was a three-speed box), the acceleration was very like an ERA out of the tight corners with the inside wheel wheel screeching as it spun. We took it to Donington and again it was outstanding, but I did think that it was ‘floating’ a bit at maximum

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speed on the straight. Even at the tightest corners first gear was too low and one was out of second in a flash because of the violent wheel spin. The worst feature was the brakes, they soon faded when they got warm.

The lightweight model had the same sort of performance as cars like the Type 55 Bugatti and Monza Alfa-Romeo up to about

80mph, but it accomplished this in complete silence and mostly in top gear. Unlike most cars of American origin at that time, the steering was quite high geared. Driving the Railton round tight corners in second gear and accelerating away was great fun. As there was no engine roar one could hear the squeal of the inside rear tyre. When Charles gave me that picture of him entering the Esses at Shelsley too fast, he said he hoped it would not be published. But this was more than 40 years ago, and if Charles looks down from heaven and sees it I don’t think he would mind. Mind you, if I ever join him I’ll be very careful, because Charles had a fantastic temper. When he was cross he was unbelievably cross; I believe that this was really an aftermath of a

Soe

A A e!

Charles Follett driving the lightweight Railton on the Campbell circuit at Brooklands ahead of an SS

100.

Now stripped for Shelsley. This is the picture that Charles was not pleased with — i practice he is coming too fast into the Esses.

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site

wey ML A war wound. His son Pat, in business with his father, was another

good friend of mine. We met when I visited Dick Oats at the Follett premises at Hammersmith. On such mornings we often went out for a coffee; I sometimes had a couple of biscuits but I noticed that Pat usually had two or three slices of toast and marmalade. So I asked him if he had had any breakfast. Pat said, ““Nobody in our house has any breakfast, except my father, who has it alone. Nobody dares to speak to him in the morning because of his impossible temper”’. In the early days of Belisha beacon-controlled pedestrian crossings I was riding wth Charles one day in his Speed 20 Alvis Saloon. Approaching a crossing in Finchley we saw that that there was a policeman standing some way beyond the crossing, and there was a woman just starting to cross the road. Charles did not stop. He pulled up beyond the crossing by the policeman, and I could see

LZ TALL

that Charles was red faced and furious. What about, I couldn’t

think! Charles lowered the driver’s window and called the policeman over. He accused the policeman of being about to issue a summons for failing to stop at the crossing. Every time the policeman started to speak, Charles interrupted him saying, “I know what you are thinking, you think I should have stopped to let that lady cross the road’’. I could see that the policeman was as bewildered as me, Charles went on and on about the police harassment. The poor old policeman was speechless but eventually he slowly got out his notebook and, I thought rather reluctantly, asked Charles for his driving licence and issued a warning. As we drove away I looked round and saw the policeman shaking his head in wonderment. Charles was still red in the face and furious. I said nothing, and as far as I know, Charles never actually received a summons. Charles was a keen shot and took pride in his guns. On one summer night at about three o’clock in the morning, he happened to get up to spend a penny. Quietly crossing the landing in his pyjamas, he looked out of the landing window, and saw in the bright moonlight, a rabbit sitting in the middle of his tennis court. Charles crept downstairs, got out his 12 bore gun, crept upstairs, opened the landing window only an inch or so and poked only the nozzle of his gun through, aimed and fired. The enormous explosion in the confines of the landing brought down the whole of the ceiling and filled the place with the stench of gunpowder. Charles’ wife and four children terrified that there had been a murder or suicide rushed to the scene, and found

Charles on the floor with the ceiling all over him and clutching his gun. I understand that he also killed the rabbit. In a way, this was typical of Charles — delightfully impossible — but we all loved him. He ran his Alvis in most of the RAC Rallies and teamed up with other friends. Parties at his home afterwards were always enjoyable because Charles was a very hospitable and popular host. Amongst his Rally co-drivers was Jack Warner, whose sisters were the well known variety artistes, Elsie

and Doris Waters. Some years later, Jack himself achieved fame as Dixon of Dock Green. Once again, there was that stage/motor racing connection.

N SILO

| |

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The financial situation at ERAs was getting critical again, and something had to be done to produce some revenue. Ray and Peter knew that once Humphrey had become really disenchanted about anything it was no good trying to change his mind. He had put his heart into the Murray Jamieson 4-litre sports ERA project, and after Murray’s death he was quite emphatic that he would not have anything to do with another sports car. When it was suggested, he said that he was not against Ray and Peter forming another company to produce a sports car, but he himself would not be involved. Ray and Peter had something in mind, and Humphrey said that he would not be against it at all, and if such a sports car was able eventually to assist with the financing of the racing car he would be delighted. I told him that I might be involved with such a project, and Humphrey said he would be very pleased and thought it was a good idea for me to be more closely involved with the set-up at Bourne.

Captain Black of the Standard Company loaned Ray a V8 Standard Saloon asking him to evaluate the model. When Ray took me out in that car and I heard Ray’s enthusiastic praise I really didn’t take much notice. Ray was always apt to overpraise cars loaned to him by his friends. It was his nature. Peter Berthon was always more critical; but he, too, was very

enthusiastic about that V8 Standard and suggested that it could form the basis of an ERA sports car. We all tried it again, and after talks and meetings at Coventry and Bourne concluded that the model was not expensive to produce and did not really fit in with the rest of the Standard range. Standards were all too keen to find an outlet for the V.8. Without Humphrey’s financial backing, someone was needed to take his place if the sports car project was to be restarted. Prideaux-Brune, who was to have been involved with the original 4-litre sports ERA, was an obvious choice. Prideaux was very enthusiastic and a new company was formed, Shelsley Motors Limited, the Directors to be Raymond Mays, L. Prideaux-Brune,

Peter Berthon and Philip Merton, the last named being a mutual friend of Ray and Prideaux. Once again, Prideaux’s company, the Winter Garden Garage at Holborn, London, would handle

distribution and sales.

wey MELA ON

Lhe

At last I was able officially to join the sports car project. For a time I was still based at Kensington High Street Garage, but divided my time between London and Bourne. Originally, the new sports car was going to be called an ERA, though the company was named Shelsley Motors. It was agreed that a percentage of the profits of Shelsley Motors would be paid to ERA Limited, and in that way the racing would be subsidized. In practice, it was very difficult to allocate time and effort between the sports car project and the racing cars. There were potential differences of opinion between Humphrey and Peter on this subject, and even amongst the staff at Bourne. These were difficult times anyway, everyone being tense and conscious of the difficulties of finance, and the fact that the new racing car was not going well. In an attempt to alleviate the situation it was agreed that the name of the sports car would be changed to ‘The Raymond Mays Special’ and a greater attempt was made to segregate the work. A new name appeared on the list of ERA winners. At the Lewis Speed Trials, which I always liked, my friend, Peter Monkhouse who was Ian Connell’s partner in Monaco Motors, made a stirring fastest time of the day in R6B. Peter and I got on very well indeed, and over the years he became a great friend to all my family. He was best known for his MG and Bugatti racing, but was a brilliant engineer as well. Like his cousin, George Monkhouse, Peter was very outspoken and did not suffer fools

N iS is '

Peter Monkhouse at Lewis speed trials making fastest time of the day and breaking the record in Ian Connell’s ERA ROB.

Doctor E.J. Roth, whose 105 Talbot I so liked, was doing very well at this time, too. On several occasions he told us that he thought it would be worthwhile having the 105 rebuilt into a single-seater, because he never seemed to use it on the road, since his career as a Harley Street radiologist require him to use a saloon. He asked Ray and Peter if ERAs could rebody the 105 on the lines

of the current Grand Prix Mercedes. I made some drawings for Peter, and Peter did some more, but of course, the main problem

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was that the existing 105 Talbot chassis with its tall radiator could never be make to look like the Mercedes without chassis modifications as well. However, final drawings were agreed, using the existing high radiator, and the Grey brothers built a really beautiful body which certainly pleased John Roth. On test the car seemed very exciting but the light rear end was conducive to a lot of wheel spin. Both John Roth and Chris Staniland raced the car at Brooklands on the outer circuit but there was negligible road holding and it was an absolute pig on the Banking. I thought it was quite good round the Mountain but nobody else agreed with me. A friend of John Roth’s who also knew Raymond Mays very well, one John Scott, had always admired the Alpine body originally fitted to the Roth Talbot. He approached us with a proposition for a new Talbot that he would like to race in the Tourist Trophy. Talbots had by that time finished production of the high chassis 105 and had replaced it with a much lower drop frame model with the 105 or 110 engine. Georges Roesch was still at the Talbot Works at Barlby Road in West London. I went to see Georges after I had roughed out the design of the body on the low chassis, but Georges said it would be hopeless. He said that he was not really responsible for the drop chassis, it was basically wrong, and only with great reluctance had he been involved with its production. Moreover, he said that as Rootes were taking over Talbots where was no chance of any help from them in connection with racing. .eae

Chris Staniland at the wheel of Roth’s Talbot with its new

ERA body.

The new dropped-chassis 105/110 Talbot at Barlby Road, the Talbot Factory.

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It seemed that the TT Talbot plan was.a dead duck so I suggested to John and Peter that Alvis would be a good bet. Apparently, some years previously, John had owned one of the earliest types of Speed 20 Alvis Tourers and was very keen on the make. I told him about my experience with the Speed 20 designed for the 1932 TT for Tim Birkin and produced some photographs. He was immediately enthusiastic about the idea of a new Alvis so I went to see Charles Follett. He and I discussed the project with Dick Oats and everyone liked the scheme. Charles said he would order a Speed 25 or 4.3-litre chassis from Coventry and Dick Oats would make any racing modifications allowed within the regulations for racing. I made the drawings, basing the car on a development of the Tim Birkin Speed 20 but also owing something to the Alpine Talbots. Everything was agreed by John Scott and Peter Berthon and a chassis was ordered from Charles Follett. When the drawings were completed the car was also rather like the special low Talbot 90 built by Roland Hebeler, another of my favourites. In every way I was close to this TT Alvis project, and John Scott promised that I would have an opportunity of racing the car myself. John asked Ray if he would mind if the Alvis was painted in Raymond Mays’ pale blue. Ray was very pleased, and told us that we would soon be able to see another car in that same blue, because Ray’s own Raymond Mays Special open tourer was going to be finished in that shade. When motor racing finished at the end of the summer, Peter Berthon and I made an ERA three-man bob sleigh for the winter season; as you can see in the photograph, it was not very sophisticated! But I enjoyed it very much with my two brothers riding with me. At Bourne, work was proceeding on the prototype V8 sports car. Peter Berthon designed a new independent front suspension. Planned were a four-light saloon, using almost all of one of the With my two younger brothers, Peter and Michael, I

drive the ‘ERA bobsleigh’, our simply hastily contrived toboggan.

Standard bodies, a drop-head coupé, also based on one of the normal Standard range, and an open sports four-seater to be produced by REAL. A short chassis competition model was also considered and Raymond Mays said that he and I would be able to race this model — at last the promise of a real works drive! In the racing car shops the new chassis for the 2.2-litre ERA was proceeding apace, but every time it was tested at Donington they seemed to have drastic trouble requiring major modifications. It was continually being promised for the next race but having to be withdrawn. All of this was very bad for morale. Berthon’s new swing axle for the rear suspension was eventually discarded after too much time had been spent on it. Talking with Aubrey Barrett, I realised that he was very frustrated. He was a very good engineer with his own opinions, which often clashed with Peter Berthon’s. Barrett did not push for his own way and, of course, Mays always backed Berthon — right or wrong. The ERA situation was exciting but very dangerous. The existing privately owned cars were doing very well indeed and despite real competition from the new Maseratis and from the new

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all-independently sprung Alta from Geoffrey Taylor, ERAs continued to be the predominant voiturettes. Raymond Mays was at the peak of his driving prowess on the road circuits and he continued to dominate the hill climbing scene. Another new record at Shelsley Walsh gave him his tenth best time there.

Above, left. George Abeccasis in the all-independent

l!/2-litre Alta at Prescott. George was very successful in this car in short distance events, competitive with ERAs. I knew him from his Cambridge days when he drove a much-lightened Austin 7. Above, right. Sammy Davis and Geoffrey Taylor with a works Alta at Shelsley Walsh. Sammy drove this car in the Hill Climb.

Amongst the Continental events contested by ERAs, the Picardie Grand Prix at Pérone in France was one of the most enjoyable and successful. Ray and Lord Howe were racing R4D and R8C and we learned that Bira was running Hanuman, so all the new Zoller-blown cars would be running. Pérone was a fast circuit with a long straight back leg, so high back axle ratios were needed, but there were three very sharp corners as well. Ray had already won at Pérone the previous year and he liked the circuit very well, but now, unfortunately, he was far from well and had a high

temperature when he left Bourne for the had been fitted since Shelsley Walsh but confident, after a long road test through used to call ‘the long test run’. Norman Wilson, a relatively new

Continent. A new engine Peter Berthon was very Toft and round what we ERA owner, was going to

wey MLL ON _Ley run his ex-Fairfield 1100 and we knew that the opposition would include the fastest Continental Maseratis. In practice there were the usual dramas including some frightening skids by Johnny Wakefield. Johnny tended to be a spectacular driver in any case, and on one occasion he almost lost the ERA accelerating away from the sharp corner before the pits. Despite the fact that the car was sideways, he kept his foot on the throttle all the time whilst the car slid from side to side as he over-corrected, and was still

sideways when he disappeared from sight beyond the pits. Joking _with him afterwards he said he was determined not to be beaten by the car, which told him to lift off, and he said that he jolly well wouldn't! Like most Grands Prix at that time, the race was going to be run with two heats and a final. In the first heat the Old Man was running against Bira and they were at it hammer and tongs right from the start. Howe led past the pits after the first lap and on the second lap he was playing the same game as Wakefield, keeping his foot down in first gear sliding about whilst accelerating away from the corner before the pits. On the third lap Bira had taken the lead but Lord Howe kept very close behind and they finished in that order. Ray had telephoned his mother before the race telling her that he was much better, but he told the rest of the team that he still felt ‘far from well’ — a favourite phrase of Ray’s. Nevertheless, he took his place at the wheel for the second heat. On this occasion

Opposite, left. Reggie Tongue in his very fast new four-cylinder Maserati leading Reg Parnell in the BHW. Opposite, right. Rival Maseratis. Bira in the ex-Straight 2.9 and Reggie Tongue in his new car.

there was not very much opposition, and he was able to tour home just ahead of Norman Wilson. Now we had all the fast chaps lined up for the final. Ray made a sensational start just like Shelsley Walsh, and he screamed ahead leaving the rest almost standing. As the cars disappeared from view, Peter Berthon remarked out loud, “‘Ray shouldn’t have

done that’. Peter well knew that the first gear band would be needed for at least two and probably three of the corners, and it would be unlikely to last after such a start. Peter was proved right, straight away. Ray came round with a big lead but pulling away from the pit corner relatively slowly in second gear, waving his despair to the pits as he passed. He had obviously lost first gear band, but despite this handicap his lap times were very fast and only Bira overtook. The fastest of the Maseratis, Hug’s, lay third and was not making up any time on RAC. Lord Howe had trouble with his supercharger in the closing laps of the first heat and it recurred again causing his retirement. Now, with half the final over, both Bira and Ray seemed to be

having some trouble which did not affect their times. Both drivers were getting dirty faces and overalls, oil or oil mist coming into the cockpit. After several more laps Bira’s oil problem got much worse, his face and overalls were smothered and he came into the pits. No one seemed to know what the trouble was, but some oil was added

to the engine whilst one more lap before romped home ahead Norman Wilson was

Ray went by to take the lead. Bira only did retiring. Ray’s oil trouble got no worse and he of the Maseratis of Bianci and Soffietti. very pleased to be fourth. He impressed

Ww OW

SG Ansa

CHAPTER

|/

everyone with his capable driving against stiff opposition. Ray’s health seemed to have improved with the successful racing! I missed Le Mans again but the Winter Garden Garages 4/4 Morgan driven by Geoff White and Miss Fawcett did well, qualifying with Peter Clark and Marcus Chambers in their HRG for the Rudge Whitworth Cup for 1939. At Brooklands, I had a drive in Charles Follett’s old 12/50 Alvis which he was hiring out to drivers, in the same way as Bellevue were doing with one of their N-Type MGs. A friend of mine, Alex Hutton, who was in the coach building business, hired that Alvis for a couple of Handicap Races on the outer circuit at Brooklands. This was his first experience with a racing car and he thoroughly enjoyed it, without being very fast. His everyday car was a Type 55 BMW and we enjoyed some good drives together in that car.

This hiring of racing cars was a very good thing indeed. John Dugdale, who was Sammy Davis’s assistant at The Autocar, hired the Bellevue MG Magnette, and really loved it. He was a

rabid enthusiast and a very charming personality,

a modest

understating sort of chap. He so enjoyed the Bellevue MG that he decided to race properly himself. Wilkie Wilkinson took charge of a most interesting rebuild of John’s ordinary open two-seater N-Type MG. It was turned into a very sleek single-seater, with uprated engine and the body styled on the lines of Dick Seaman’s Delage. John was a fan of Seaman’s and John and his MG were always

presented in very capable got to know very close to

black and silver in the Seaman manner. John was a driver and I very much admired the set-up and later I John very well. In his job with the The Autocar he was the International scene. His story is very well told in

his book Great Motor Sport of the Thirties — a personal account. I was about to visit Alvis at Coventry on our TT project

when John Scott telephoned me to say that the whole thing was off. John was on the reserve of military officers and was joining his

wey ML NEA regiment because of the worsening international situation. I.was terribly disappointed and so was Charles Follett, but similar things were happening everywhere and many new projects were shelved.

Opposite. Alex Hutton in the poe Alvis

There was a further problem in that many engineering companies were working on new military projects which, of course, took precedence over the motor racing items with which we were concerned. Humphrey Cook decided that it would be impossible to proceed with the 3-litre Grand Prix car, so the new car would remain a 1!/2-litre in the voiturette class. Again, a great disappointment, particularly because so much time and money had already been spent on the Grand Prix project. The 1938 season finished at Brooklands with another fine Mountain Championship victory for Ray with R4D in two-litre form. The next event was the Donington Grand Prix and again the German Mercedes and Auto-Union teams were going to be the star attractions. This was at the time of the Munich crisis and it seemed that war might break out at any time. The race was on and off, then on again. The German teams arrived at Donington, then packed up and started to return to Germany, then came back again. The Munich crisis was resolved and it appeared that there would be no war. There was great relief, for a short time. The postponed Donington Grand Prix was another demonstration of German might. Our ERAs were nowhere. This time it was Nuvolari who dominated the race with an Auto-Union. It was so obvious to at__everyone that there was no way in which a British motor

Bo cepdons from Dick Oat

Manufacturer could compete with the German teams without

Opposite, right. Alex Hutton

Government backing and there was no sign of anything like that. The ERA Club held its annual dinner in London on 4th N\oyvember. We presented Humphrey Cook with a cheque for £300

12.50 divsbefore dlex'sfier and he was obviously very moved with the gesture and, of course, it race.

Was only that — a gesture. However, it meant a lot to him and to Ray and Peter. It was a great evening, full of hope. Lord Howe was in the chair in fine form and we felt that perhaps there was now a new awareness of the necessity to have a British contender in International motor racing. We might have been on the brink of persuading a large number of British enthusiasts to join the Club. Such was the feeling in the Autumn of 1938; sadly it did not last long. Within a very short time the clouds of war loomed again, and the situation at Bourne became even more critical. Humphrey announced that he needed at least £5,000 per year subscribed towards ERA to enable him to continue with the firm and the racing. There were many suggestions including help from the SMM & T, a new National fund and, of course, a drive to increase membership of the ERA Club. I had meetings with Humphrey and with our President, Lord Howe. The Old Man suggested that I should write an open letter to all the Press. When the text was approved by all concerned, I sent the letter to all the National Press and motor journals. It was widely publicized and supported and although we had some increase of members and a few voluntary donations there was nothing like the money required.

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An

Open

Letter

to Britain’s Enthusiasts From

A

them to wish to do something, small, to assist in its production.

A. F. RIVERS FLETCHER (Chairman E.R.A. Club)

HIS is an interested Motor

Since Ltd.,

open letter to all those in Britain’s prestige in

Racing;

so

far

as

Grand

Prix racing is concerned this country has been unrepresented for a number of years, though recently owing to the wonderful generosity of Humphrey Cook, the E.R.A. concern has come into being and has put England on the map in the 1}-litre class; the very existence of these cars would not have been possible except for the tremendous sportsmanship of Humphrey Cook. In order to assist him the E.R.A. Club was formed by a band of enthusiasts who wished to show their appreciation and enthusiasm by contributing a little towards the enormous cost of building and experiment, and it was thought that in this way it would provide an avenue by which the sporting public could make some contribution to enhance England’s reputation in International Motor Racing. Under

the

Presidency

of Earl Howe,

and

with Mrs. K. Petre and the late Pat Fairfield as Vice-Presidents, this Club received enthusiastic support from the technical Press and soon had a membership of about 150 enthusiasts. It has also received great help and encouragement from a number of other motor racing officials and competitors, including S. C. H. Davis, who has recently

become one of its Vice-Presidents. Now that the E.R.A. concern is going to enter the Grand Prix field the appeal of this Club should be very considerably widened, and though during the last few months the membership has increased by 50 per cent., there must surely be many more people

A A g!

in this country who are sufficiently keen on England producing a Grand Prix car for the Club its

is run

directors,

to benefit Humphrey

however

E.R.A. Cook,

Raymond Mays, and Peter Berthon cannot therefore be directly connected with it, but it has their full approval and receives from them every help and encouragement. The majority of members are impecunious enthusiasts who have difficulty enough in finding their {1 per year for the subscription, but since motor racing, by its very nature,

has

a

not

unwealthy

following,

it

should be possible to increase the number of members considerably. The minimum entrance fee of 5s. is so worded to provide those, who wish and are able to give more, the opportunity of doing so.

The Club expenses are cut to a minimum,

there are no paid officers, nor are there any recognised club rooms, and the few social events which are organised are run at a profit, but it does provide a monthly bulletin, giving details of E.R.A. activity and news from the works, etc. A somewhat similar venture to this has been organised and run in France to subsidise the building of Grand Prix cars in that country, and has received considerable support from the public. Surely those

people over here who are interested in the Sport are, thdugh admittedly fewer in number than in France, at least as patriotic and sportsmanlike ? Further details may be obtained from the Hon. Sec., S. H. Green, 591, London Road, Thornton Heath, Surrey. If you are keen to do something to help English racing, will you please join this Club ? Those at the head of the sport in this country have given this venture their fullest support ; it now only remains for you to follow their example.

_ . There were two new ERAs under construction, numbered GPI and GP2, though they were later known as E-_Type 1 and E-Type 2 when it was decided to make them 11/2-litres. Our treasurer, Philip Mayne, was appointed official Team Manager for ERAs, so he had to relinquish his position in the Club. In the same way I offered to resign from my position as Chairman, because I too was officially connected with the Bourne Company. In my case however, since the Raymond Mays Special was being produced by a separate company, Shelsley Motors Limited, I was asked to continue as Chairman of the Club. Though the £5,000 was not forthcoming, Humphrey soldiered on from week to week. In contrast to the speedy development of the original ERA in 1934, the new E-Type was bedevilled with continuous trouble. Outside suppliers who had been so prompt with parts in 1934 were finding it much harder to keep promises in 1939. The basic ERA design was more complicated, and there was some conflict in the design office. It was not the happy ship of previous years. As each important race was announced, Raymond Mays was entered to run in the E-Type. Each time the car was withdrawn because it was not ready. Ray continued to run R4D, and Arthur Dobson was nominated as our second driver. Arthur was

Eh Lit Lhe undoubtedly a splendid driver, and he had the advantage of being a good engineer as well. However, I never thought that he fitted in well with Ray and Peter, as Lord Howe did when he made the third member of the team with his private R8C. In my opinion the Bourne set-up — Ray, Humphrey and Madge, Peter and Lorna, Lord Howe, and until his death, Pat

Fairfield, together with the regular mechanics and helpers — formed a tight circle with its own vocabulary, likes and dislikes and ‘in jokes’. I had always been in that circle and liked it, but was worried that it seemed to exclude some people who were in the company, and others who were closely involved with ERAs.

I ALLL,

Arthur Dobson backs R7B into its stall at Brooklands watched

by George Monkhouse.

It seemed to me that some of the Brooklands regulars such as Charles Brackenbury, Freddie Dixon, Cyril Paul and Arthur

Dobson and others were always outside the circle. These were chaps who liked a pint at the Hand and Spear, for example. I think they regarded Bourne as different; not necessarily ‘effete’ but certainly different. There was mutual respect and outward apparent ease but I could always discern a certain reserve. Looking back on the previous season’s racing I had enjoyed a lot of minor events. As always, Poole was very good. This time, John Appleton, with his incredibly noisy Appleton Special, made fastest time of the day, as he did at Dancers End, which was always

a very cheerful amateur event. At Poole one of the youngest and prettiest girl drivers, Dorothy Stanley-Turner, drove very well in her

MG - she and her cars were very well presented. A leading Bugatti owner, Craig, had a wonderful collection of cars at Poole, all in the same livery of black and white in the style first featured by Jean Bugatti with the original Type 55. At Poole Craig had his Type 59, the ex-Lord Howe Type 54, which had been rebuilt and rebodied by Bachelier as a sports car, and several other fine Bugattis.

Managing the ERA Club, first as its secretary, then later as Chairman, was proving a very interesting job. We were a motley crew with very different lifestyles, most of us were impecunious,

NOW

Se

CHAPTER

/

a and nearly all of us were young, unattached bachelors. Right from the start there was a camaraderie, our differences being a joke, not a barrier. I was almost penniless all the time and so was Sam Green. His great friend, Jack Hawke, was a good deal better off and Philip Mayne, who was probably ten years older than the rest of us, was well breeched and married.

Though our major interest was motor racing, our second loves were often different. Mine was girls, Sam’s was beer, Jack

Hawke’s was jazz, and I think that Philip Mayne’s was money; and I am sure that Philip Turner’s was writing. It seemed to me that for the rest of our committee and active members, beer or some sort of

alcohol was high on the list of interests. I didn’t mind that at all, but was very pleased that Jack Hawke was just as abstemious as me. We all ragged one another a good deal. I claimed that Sam was unable to do anything until he had a jug of beer in his hand, and he said that I was useless unless I had a girl on my arm. They had been less tolerant of my Rover Fletcher Special, but in retrospect I think they were right. Today I would never dream of putting my own name to such a car. Going to motor racing events in the company of my new friends in the ERA Club was very good for me. In previous years I had spent too much of my time in the company of those at the top

of motor racing — living close to the Gods. It was wonderful, and I know that I had been very privileged and, in a way, spoiled, but, going around with people who I regarded as deities had some disadvantages. I tended to set my sights too high. I really should have started racing myself in minor speed trials and club events at Brooklands in some modest old sports car, instead of only having occasional practice drives in other people’s great racing cars. Now, in retrospect I wished I had competed more in the thirties, even at the expense of missing some drives in cars like ERAs, Maseratis and Alfa-Romeos, that I could not own myself at that time. However, one drive that I wouldn’t have missed for

anything was my stint round the Mountain at Brooklands in Luis Fontes Monza Alfa. He rode with me, and bravely urged me to greater speed. That Monza was the fastest car that I was able to really drive to my limit at Brooklands. I cannot remember how many laps I did, perhaps six or seven. They were untimed, and probably that is just as well for my ego! I think I soon got the hang of the top corner, having watched it so much, leaving the braking quite late, with foot hard down in second gear on right lock, the car sliding but the sliding checked by the steepness of the banking as one went under the bridge, then taking great care straightening out afterwards, maintaining position about half way up the Members Banking until the track flattens out towards the Fork. The Fork was quite straight forward, but I guess I braked too early, correcting the wheel spin and sliding before the fast run up the finishing straight. Luis must have been a very relaxed sort of passenger, because he said he enjoyed it. I owe him a great deal. He won a fine Le Mans with Hindmarsh in a Lagonda. He actually bought, but never raced,

ween

a monoposto Alfa Romeo, and ordered a new

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Guy Warburton and Sydney Allard storming up a Trials

hill.

ERA. Then he had an appalling road accident with disastrous results; a very sad ending to what could have been a fine racing career. Allards, with Leslie Ballamy’s front suspension, were doing very well in most of the trials, but I saw few of them. Ken Hutchison, whom I first met when he was driving a Bugatti at Donington, married Kitty Brunell daughter of W.J. Brunell who was the best known motoring photographer at that time. Ken drove a very fierce V12 Lincoln-engined Allard. He gave me a lift to one of the Trials Hills which I found very frightening. At Brooklands, I had a short drive in a very special pale blue N-Type MG Magnette that was owned and raced by Fred Thatcher. On my short drive I took with me Fred’s dishy sister, the well known actress Heather Thatcher. The car is now owned and raced in Germany by Peter Altenbach. Being based at Winter Garden Garages at Holborn, I spent a good deal of my time with Dick Anthony who looked after all the competition side of Prideaux-Brune’s business. Dick was responsible for the Le Mans Morgan which also raced at Donington, and I had a short drive in that car, but only in London so at no great speed. Just as with Kensington High Street Garage, I often had the use of a sports car that I might sell to one of my friends. I used several Le

TT77 IT

Mans and Mark II Aston Martins, a beautiful one-off short chassis

two-litre A.C. coupé and a Coventry-Climax-engined Morgan 4/4 which I had for quite a long time.

The very nice one-off short-chassis AC.

As soon as the first production Raymond Mays Special cars were completed I drove them. Four cars were entered for the RAC

Lorna Berthon driving Ray’s Raymond Mays Special.

Rally, a special drop-head coupé for Lance and Charlotte Prideaux-Brune and three open sports tourers to form a team. There was a pale blue one for Raymond Mays, a green one for Dick Anthony and a cream one for Sammy Davis. I drove the Sammy Davis one a good deal on test at Brooklands, and we tried different axle ratios. My girlfriend, Penny, did her first 100mph at Brooklands in that car. All the tourers were capable of the Ton and they really had extremely good road holding. All the Raymond Mays Special cars did well in the Rally, Prideaux’s winning the prize for the best coachwork in his class.

Oo OW

CHAPTER

|/

~ FLN386

At Brooklands there were always new excitements. A series of races to decide the fastest sports car was great fun, of course it couldn’t decide anything, but who cared? I hoped that Ian Connell would win in the Monaco-prepared 4-litre Darracq, but another

friend, Dorothy Patten, entered her 2-litre Peugeot to be driven by ‘Donny’ Dorndorf. Dorothy and I had driven a Speed 20 Alvis sometime previously, and she was great fun. Another of the contenders in that race was Bob Cowell’s

Alta. I took a photograph of that car being attended to in its stall in the Paddock at Brooklands, the young well-shaven mechanic later became the greatest motor racing journalist and one my best friends — Denis Jenkinson. Arthur Dobson won the race in the Delahaye, Ian Connell

A A

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pe i penser oii He Se

tiny esstanding behind

Jenks.

was second, but neither Bob Cowell or Donny Dorndorf was in the hunt.

At Brooklands private owners of ERAs were doing very

Well. I spent a lot of time with Billy Cotton, Wilkie Wilkinson and

Jock Horsfall. Jock bravely drove R5B on an outer circuit race,

lapping at 124mph and it looked just as dangerous as when Ray tried doing that in practice in 1936. I asked Jock how it felt, and he said it was all right and only required a bit of concentration, but that was typical of the man.

wey MY a During the 1930s motor racing in Great Britain did develop a little in that we had some more circuits — Donington, Crystal Palace and the Campbell Road Circuit at Brooklands — and we had some new sprints and hill climbs, the most important of which was Prescott Hill. But the general scene was not much bigger, our world was still a fairly closely knit group. One could not really have a Shelsley Walsh Hill Climb on the same weekend as a BARC meeting at Brooklands, because so many of the competitors, officials, press and public were the same. Though some tested at Donington, as we often did with ERAs, Brooklands was the Mecca. With all the main tuning establishments, company premises and private workshops, there was always something doing at Brooklands, For me, there was always a charm and glamour about the place and a magic atmosphere. To be

_.amember of the Brooklands Automobile Racing Club, enabled one

mere jhe Sammy Davis 4

4 higelendi:

TALL LE

to be in the centre of the action. All other Clubs, even the BRDC,

served only a section of our world, but practically all of us regarded

Brooklands as the hub of British motor racing. One of the charms of that small world of racing in the Thirties, was that we all knew one another. The leading journalists, such as Sammy Davis from The Autocar and Rodney Walkerly of The Motor, were on christian name terms with nearly everyone. Though I thought that our ERA set at Bourne was in a sense out on a limb, we certainly knew and were known to everyone at Brooklands. Friendships, liaisons and even marriages, were forged amongst the Brooklands habitués. Typical were the people who raced MGs from University Motors, Bellevue, Cresta, Monaco Motors, R.R. Jackson and several more companies who were all very close. Mike Edmondson, whose father entered the first team of MGs to race at Brooklands in 1930, bought the Dugdale single-seater MG Magnette and raced it with Tony Hirst at Brooklands. He was engaged to marry Peter Monkhouse’s sister, Shirley. Jim Elwes married Peggy Blathwaite whose sister married Peter Monkhouse. Both of the Blathwaite girls drove competition MGs. Doreen Evans married another Bellevue customer, MG racing driver Allan Phipps. I could go on — not quite incestuous, but without doubt the liaisons and inter-marriages within the MG set were numerous. It was just the same with Bentleys, Rileys, Lagondas, Aston Martin, Austin, ERAs and of course, in the Chain

Gang — except that because of the chains there was probably some bondage as well! I have never taken any interest in politics, national or even international. It was only when the Munich crisis threatened to prevent the German team from taking part in the Donington Grand Prix, that I started to worry. By 1939 there was ever more talk of war and it was impossible to completely ignore it. Many friends joined the auxiliary armed forces, the RAF being the favourite. It was generally believed that if war were declared there would be an immediate heavy air raid on London. To that end

Tam talking to ‘Wilkie’ whois

ee

ERA and ‘ycoon’ fast Frazer-Nash BMW.

there was a drive to build up an auxiliary fire service in the Greater Tondon area. I had always thought that it would be great fun to

drive a fire engine, so: I enlisted in the local auxiliary fire service ; : ;

which would be serving London. After attending several meetings I

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pels malls

learned to my sorrow that there was no chance whatsover of my driving their splendid Leyland ‘main appliance’ — which I soon learned was the correct name of what I had previously called their

fire engine. Members of the AFS were concerned only with little Coventry-Climax auxiliary pumps on two-wheel trailers which were towed by vans, lorries or private cars — not nearly as much fun! However, they put a towing attachment on my Riley Nine and a friend of mine in our division of the AFS owned several fine

vintage sports cars, this fleet included a Diatto, a Th. Schneider and a wonderful Delage 21hp six-cylinder Vanden Plas tourer. I was lucky in that I usually drove the Delage. Fire drill and other exercises were great fun, and we enjoyed some splendid trailer races, as there was a minimum of police interference as the international situation worsened.

BRAS

A day’s testing at Donington with Ray, Ken Richardson and Dorr, who usually worked with Ken, was most enjoyable. Ray drove R4D and I was allowed to warm it up. We waited in vain for Peter Berthon who was coming along with the van and GPI1. As was usual at the time the new car was not ready. Now, after many more tests at Donington and at Brooklands the E-Type GP1 was definitely promised for the 1939 International Trophy. However, during the final test at Donington there was serious engine trouble and the entry had to be withdrawn. Because there had been so much pre-race publicity Raymond Mays was asked by the JCC to bring the car to Brooklands so that

people could see it in the Paddock. Most of us thought this was not a very good idea but Ray yielded to pressure, and the car was

brought down in the van. It was parked in front of the Clubhouse in the Paddock. It looked very attractive, long and low with its

profile rather like the Mercedes. It was beautifully finished in the original ERA green, and upholstered in dark red velvet-like material. There was great disappointment that it was not going to race. The International Trophy from the ERA point of view was a

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On duty in the AFS driving the 3-litre Delage.

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disaster. All our cars had misfortunes and nobody was happy about anything. Immediately after the weekend when the engine trouble had been cured, Ray did several laps of the International Trophy circuit. The car was very fast indeed but once again engine trouble stopped the proceedings. Humphrey Cook was present and looked dejected. 1939 started so well: a promise of peace, some hope of real financial help for ERAs, and for me personally, well, I had the job I most wanted — on the administration of the new sports car from Bourne. Then within a short time, quite suddenly, it all went sour. War seemed inevitable, and probably quite soon. Humphrey and Peter Berthon were at loggerheads, and Ray was finding it almost impossible to keep the peace. An idea, promoted by Desmond Scannell of the BRDC to raise funds for ERA by means of a British Motor Racing Fund, was discarded because of lack of support. Humphrey said that this was the last straw. He said that he would have to pack in the whole thing, and close down the company. This was his final decision and a notice was sent to the Press. The next few weeks were full of sadness and frustration. Humphrey decided to remove all the E-Type car’s bits and pieces, equipment and some plant to the ERA sheds at Donington. Raymond Mays and Peter remained at Bourne with R4D which Ray arranged to purchase from the company together with a second engine and spares. As the old ERA company was disbanded, Humphrey formed another firm with Philip Mayne and himself as Directors at Donington. The designer, Aubrey Barrett, joined them as well as Humphrey Cook’s old mechanic, Percy Pugh. Peter Berthon, Ken Richardson and Door remained at Bourne with R4D together with the Shelsley Motors staff and the Raymond Mays Special cars. Even the management of the ERA Club was becoming a bit difficult. Inevitably, people took sides, though both Humphrey and Ray tried to stop this. They were strange times; in some respects I was extremely happy because Penny and I planned to be engaged soon and then married in the foreseeable future. But there wasn’t

T777

any foreseeable future. The threat of war overshadowed everything. Fire service drill and practice which had been just a lark suddenly became much more serious. Jumping off our practice tower onto a sheet held by a group of firemen seemed to me positively suicidal. I made a mental note that if I ever decided to end my life I would find another way. It is such a long way down; time to wish you could change your mind. In spite of the feeling of doom, life and motor racing went on. We had a near disaster at Albi where Ray lost a wheel in R4D

at very high speed but was able to come to a standstill without having more of an accident. Apart from that, the Bourne set-up worked well, Ray with R4D winning nearly everything in sight and breaking all the records. We were no longer involved with the E-Type, but Humphrey’s new team were having no better luck than we had with that car, with continuing mechanical trouble. At about the time of the race at Albi, Raymond Mays was invited to drive a Grand Prix 4!/2-litre Talbot in the French Grand

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Prix at Rheims. Tony Lago, who ran the French Talbot factory, had been over to Bourne and there had been some talk of collaboration with Peter Berthon in some respects of the projected Grand Prix ERA, and Lago spent some time with us at the Picardie Grand Prix the previous year.

Ray at the wheel of the works single-seater Talbot in the

French Grand Prix.

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In practice at Rheims, Ray and the Talbot were very fast indeed but Ray found the engine rough after the smoothness of the ERA. The fuel tank sprang a serious leak which put a stop to further practice. In the race the next day the tank split again so he had to retire after only a few laps. This was a great pity because that Talbot was very promising. It was the prototype single-seater based on the sports Darracq that I knew so well, which was owned and raced by Ian Connell, prepared by Monaco Motor and Engineering Company at Watford. Like the ERA it had a pre-selector gearbox, it had tremendous torque from low revs but was always rough. On the return from Albi and Rheims by Ray and Ken, we were visited at Bourne by Bill Esplen who had been racing a Talbot 90 and an R-Type MG, and his friend Richard Booth, and there was talk of a team of Raymond Mays Special cars for sports car events the next season. Richard Booth and IJ got on very well together, and I had a drive in his very attractive and rare Fiat coupe. Reg Parnell produced a new racing car, ‘The Challenge’, which ran at Prescott with an ERA engine. An entirely new engine was projected but it was still-born because of the war situation. The same applied to another exciting project for Lord Howe; this was a revolutionary two-stroke engine designed by J. Jameson, to be tried in his ERA.

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Bill Esplen driving his Talbot

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Richard Booth with his rare

l!|2-litre Fiat. Reg Parnell in the Challenge at Prescott.

MAW

CHAPTER

1/

Our principal hill climbs in 1939 showed Raymond Mays at the zenith of his performance, with fastest time of the day and new records at Shelsley Walsh and Prescott. At Shelsley, Kay Petre and Doreen Evans having retired from racing, the young and very attractive Dorothy Stanley-Turner became the new lady star. She drove a 1!/2-litre Alta and established a new ladies record at 43.40 secs. Ray’s out and out

record was made at 37.37 secs, a figure which most of us remembered for a very long time. At Prescott, which like Shelsley was an International fixture, Lord Howe persuaded Ettore Bugatti to enter a works car — Jean

Pierre Wimille with the 4.700cc model. He was about half a second slower than Ray whose new record was 46.14 secs. I filmed those runs and Lord Howe sent a copy of the film to Jean Bugatti, who had been staying at Penn house for the meeting. A letter to the Old Man from Jean Bugatti thanking him for the film was their last contact before Jean’s tragic death testing a racing Bugatti at Molsheim. During the same week we heard that Penn Hughes had been killed in an aeroplane accident. I had known Penn very well; he was

an excellent all-rounder driving every sort of car. It was a sad time for all of us. Penny and I had some excellent Morgan motoring. We used the Coventry-Climax-engined two-seater for a weekend visit to my old school in Lincolnshire. The 4/4 was delightfully responsive, faster than the rival MGs and Singers but a good deal rougher. I liked the Morgan’s agricultural charm.

A A A!

Penny with the Morgan 4.4.

At about the same time I borrowed a Singer-engined 1100 HRG. Of course, that spoiled me for anything else in that category. The little ‘Hurg’ was absolutely wonderful: it had superb handling, plenty of performance and it looked every inch the thoroughbred that it certainly was. I was determined to have one in the future, that is, if there was going to be a future!

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The clean and simple lines of the 1100cc HRG.

as

One day, I had tea with Humphrey at his house in Brooke Street and on the same evening had dinner with Ray at the Berkeley. Those should have been happy occasions, but they were not. Both Humphrey and Ray were worried that the ERA breakup had occurred in way the that it did. Each hoped that the friendship would be preserved, but they feared that other people would make it difficult. Ray, always very conscious of publicity, was concerned that the Press would stir it up. In fact, I think that our motoring Press was very good about it, and the Daily Press was far too interested in the International situation to bother about motor

racing. The parting would have come anyway. As ERA moved from the basically amateur voiturette scene towards the very professional Grand Prix world, it was clear that the attitude of the Directors was different. Humphrey really preferred the original limited involvement of ERAs. He did not like the huge Government-sponsored scene, and was not happy to see the German Mercedes’ and Auto-Union way of doing things. He would have liked to have had Grand Prix

ERAs up against teams like Whitney Straight’s Maseratis, the works Bugatti team and Scuderia Ferrari’s Alfa-Romeos. He did not like the way it was going in 1939. Ray and Peter were excited about the way Grand Prix was changing, and wanted to be involved with it for Great Britain. They looked to a future with heavily sponsored Grand Prix ERAs in the German manner. Humphrey had an older man’s viewpoint. I was much younger than any of them but in fact my views were more like Humphrey’s. Life was very complicated, because I was employed with Ray and Peter and was happiest in their company enjoying their extrovert theatrical existence. The ERA Club just carried on hoping that somehow or other everything would be settled.

mt

CHAPTER

|/

ees

After the Imperial Trophy Meeting at Crystal Palace where Ray won his heat but had some trouble in the final, we planned a relaxed weekend with the Prideaux-Brunes at their country house in Kent. In glorious weather Lance, Charlotte, Ray, Ken Richardson,

Penny and I played tennis all the afternoon. We had strawberries and cream with our tea. Then the rest of us watched Prideaux and Ray play very strenuous singles until dinner time. Then we sat out on the terrace on a perfect evening watching the sun set. Though war seemed imminent, we avoided the subject. As it was pointless to discuss future events for ERAs and the Raymond Mays Special cars, there seemed tacit agreement to talk of past pleasures. Ray and Prideaux were on great form and we yarned long into the night.

A A a!

4

By Granville Grenfell’s shed, Raymond Mays with his new overdrive 4/|4 Bentley, Ken Richardson, Pingo Lester and Penny.

It think we all knew that the end was in sight, and we were loth to break the spell of our shared happiness. On the following Sunday, Penny and I were driving back from matins at Finchley, on the Great North Road towards Barnet,

when we heard for the first time for real, the dreaded wailing of the air raid warning. Police and wardens directed us off the main road to an air raid shelter nearby.

Though there was no raid on that morning, it was a false alarm, nevertheless, it was for real. We were at war, and our world

ay MUS1 LLILLE A

of motor racing, and much else, was at a halt. What of the dream? So far, so good, I had had a lot of luck and I was only 27, was

there a future? Could there be motor racing again, and would I be there? I wondered and hoped, with the optimism of comparative youth I believed that somehow or other the rest of the dream would come true.

The last picture in the book and I don’t think it needs an explanation.

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Rivers doesn’t live in the past — far from it — but he does have a wonderful ability to recall events from the twenties and thirties so vividly that it is as if they were happening again. Not only that, but because Rivers was there, in the thick of the action, you, the reader, have a ringside seat. We

Whether motor

your interest is classic cars,

racing,

captains

of the motor

in-

dustry, great racing drivers, social history or just a good read, you'll enjoy this semi-autobiographical trip through the vintage pre-war years in the company of Rivers Fletcher.

Larger cover picture. A reproduction of an oil painting

by Tony Smith showing the start of the 1935 Dieppe ‘Grand Prix. Front row (1 to r): Dick Seaman (E.R.A. RIB), Raymond Mays (E.R.A. RIA) and Pat Fairfield (E.R.A.

R4A).

(Bugatti), (Delage)

Second row

‘B. Bira’ (E.R.A.

(1 to r): driver unknown

R2B)

— behind him is Humphrey

and Earl Nowe

Cook (E.R.A) E2A). The painting was kindly loaned by Guy Spollon, Honary Secretary and Treasurer of the E.R.A, Club. Smaller picture. A reproduction of a Bentley pit stop at Le Mans during the twenties — taken from a contempo- . rary Shell advertisement.

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